Celena Costello: Under a False Name
by Freelance Fanfictioner
Summary: Irritation turned into compassion, compassion into admiration, admiration into love. Severus Snape is now married and has to combat the shadows of the past, while playing a dangerous game to protect his wife. Sequel to Master of Potions.
1. Summer's End

**There are many unusual things about Celena Costello. She is part dryad, she is a descendant of Nicolas Flamel, and she was one of the most prominent beauties of Beauxbatons, outshined only by her friend Fleur Delacour. But her most extraordinary achievement lies in capturing the heart of Severus Snape.**

**Summary of the prequel: Celena arrived at Hogwarts to become Master of Potions, and almost immediately finds herself at loggerheads with Professor Snape, now Deputy Headmaster and teacher of Defense Against the Dark Arts, regarding how her subject is to be taught and her students are to be managed. She soon decides Professor Snape is the most unpleasant man she had ever had the misfortune to meet, and her aversion towards him grows stronger when she finds out he used to be a Death Eater.**

**But then she discovers other things, in particular the tragic past of Severus Snape and his unfortunate love for Lily Potter. Gradually, she begins to understand, appreciate, and admire him, while he, in his turn, finds himself irresistibly attracted to her. To general astonishment, the business is concluded in their wedding the following summer. **

**And now the story continues…**

The sun slanted across the cozy wood-paneled room. Lacy curtains were billowing in a gentle breeze. A young woman stretched like a cat, her silky nightshirt slipping off one of her white shoulders. She rested her beautiful chestnut head on the chest of the man who lay by her side.

"It's morning," he said.

"Yes," she replied, smiling sleepily, "today we are going home."

It was the last day of summer. The man sat up in bed and brushed a lock of hair from her face.

"I keep telling myself it was madness," he said, "I should never have let myself get involved with you… let alone marry you."

"You're making it sound as if I had no say in the matter," she smiled.

"…What could I possibly offer you? A man nearly twenty years older than yourself, aging in bitterness, plagued by memories, and worst of all, putting you in grave danger by this connection. All this need for concealment…"

"A secret marriage," she replied, kissing his beaked nose, "how romantic. Fleur was all in raptures when she heard about it. I, on the other hand, don't think it's quite necessary –"

"But that is just the point, Celena. It is. _It is._With you in London, perhaps living with your parents again and managing "Costello Concoctions", or back working at St. Mungo's, I would worry less. But in Hogsmeade, I don't know how we're going to pull this off. A village full of witches and wizards, all of whom know you and me, it's only a matter of time until they notice. Won't you reconsider..?"

"No." She firmly said. "I want to be close to you, and I want to live as normally as possible. Just imagine how cozy we'll be at that cottage, it's almost like here, only it won't be the south of France. I will expect you home for dinner every night, Severus. And I'll keep that potions workshop running, people will think it's natural "Costello Concoctions" is expanding now that I've completed my education and got some work experience under my belt. And what place can be better than Hogsmeade, which is simply packed with shops? Anyone would want to open a shop there. I designed a special line of beauty potions for witches – "Celena's Serums", how does that sound?"

He bowed his head and stared at her right hand. A large emerald glittered there, wrought into a thin golden hoop – his engagement gift. He also slipped a ring on her finger during their wedding, but it was hanging on a long golden chain on her neck. He insisted that she shouldn't get used to wearing the ring, because one day she might forget to remove it, and get out of the house with the ring still on her finger. How would it look, eligible single young witch Celena Costello - wearing a wedding ring?

"I know what it's like to lose loved ones," he said, "and to have your conscience weighing on you for decades. I won't ever let that happen again. I'd rather be ridiculous taking every possible precaution, than have something happen to you."

...Snape was still skeptical as they stood in McGonagall's circular office that afternoon.

"We will miss having you among our staff, Celena," said Minerva McGonagall, "you made quite an impact in just one year. I understand, of course, why you and Severus decided you should resign. With both of you constantly present in the castle, it would be next to impossible to hide that you are married. Not to mention that you, of course, want to have a home of your own. But I daresay we will be seeing you often enough in Hogsmeade. Now remember, Severus, you must be careful when you go home at night. You can use Floo Powder and go straight to your fireplace from here, but it's too risky, as the Floo Network can be easily traced. You can travel to "The Three Broomsticks'" fireplace, but only every so often, because you're not a man to frequent pubs and it would arouse suspicion, so save it for the stormiest nights. You can ride a broomstick when nights are clear, or walk to the border of Hogwarts grounds, so you can Disapparate there and Apparate at home. Be even more careful in the mornings – if you truly want to keep appearances, which, I must say…"

"I do," he interrupted. "The Death Eaters know I betrayed Voldemort. Now that they are rearing their head again, they will be after my blood. Using family and loved ones to extort, blackmail and threaten those they wish to influence is a favorite strategy with them. You should know it as well as anyone else, Minerva. I have been alone for many years, thus invulnerable to this tactic. If they know Celena and I are married, do you really believe they would not take advantage of that?"

"Then don't get out of the house in the mornings. Disapparate and Apparate near the Hogwarts grounds."

The office door opened, and a beaming Remus Lupin walked in. He put an arm around his niece and kissed her on the cheek, then shook hands with Snape. Snape didn't back off, but the expression on his face was more than cool. Despite all that has passed, the common work in the Order, and now becoming related, old grudges don't die easily, and Snape would probably never quite forget all that happened in the old days between him and Moony, Padfoot, Prongs and Wormtail.

"Marriage suits you, Celena," said Lupin, "and you too, Severus. I imagine you had the most enjoyable honeymoon in France?"

"Oh, the best, Uncle Remus. It was the most wonderful summer. Severus looks well with a tan, don't you think?"

"Remus," hastily said McGonagall, noticing the scowl on Snape's face, "I thank you again for agreeing to take up the Defense Against the Dark Arts vacancy once more. It seems that no matter what we do, we're a teacher short every year. I must say I'm quite surprised you asked to return to teaching Potions, Severus, after just two years at the Defense Against the Dark Arts position."

"I didn't expect that myself," admitted Snape, "but I missed the coolness of the dungeons, the hissing of cauldrons, the bubbling of ready solutions… not being a Potions' Master, I felt something is missing."

"It's a comfort to me, to have you two in the castle at these troubled times. And remember, Severus – you're Head of House, and as you know, something unexpected comes up at night at least once a week. A student releasing a Fanged Frisbee in the dormitory, or a couple of sweethearts caught wandering about the grounds at midnight… when you are needed, no one must suspect you don't live in the castle anymore. Be careful to leave signs of habitation in your bedroom. And be ready for us to call for you in the middle of the night if need arises. Take care to look as though you're coming out of your bedroom if that happens."

"Wouldn't think of doing anything different, Minerva."

"Good. Now, remember – the start of term feast tonight. Severus and Remus, I expect you two downstairs at seven o'clock. Dress robes please. Celena, would you like to come too?"

"Thank you, Minerva," Celena shook her head, "but I think I'll just spend the evening holed up at home, preparing everything to be nice and cozy when Severus arrives. It's our first day here and I want it to be special."


	2. Changes

"And so I regret to tell you that Professor Costello, whom we have grown to know and appreciate during the past year, decided to resign her post as a teacher and further advance her career by opening her own potions workshop, a Hogsmeade extension of the well-known "Costello Concoctions" in London. Of course, we all wish Miss Costello much success. Those who want to visit the shop are welcome to do so on the next Hogsmeade weekend. And don't worry – Professor Costello's classes will be taken over by none other than our own Professor Snape, who had taught Potions for many years previously."

From the Gryffindor table, Dennis Creevey was staring, his mouth agape. He was wearing immaculately ironed new dress robes, his hair was neatly brushed and he faintly smelled of "Clearwater Cologne – the Finest Scent for the Wizard".

"Perhaps it's for the best," whispered Martin Nordholm in his friend's ear, inaudible over the buzz that filled the Great Hall. "No, listen," he hastened to add, when Dennis gave him a murderous look, "I'm not any happier to have Snape back than you are, but I honestly think it's time for you to get over that ridiculous infatuation with Professor Costello. I thought summer would cure you, but you raved about her all the way on Hogwarts Express. Celena this, Celena that, wondering what she will think about your summer project, thinking what pretext you can use to see her between classes without arousing suspicion… wake up, mate! You can't be serious about it, I always told you that. At least nothing will distract you from Quidditch practice this year."

"I just hope you don't plan to quit Potions now that Professor Costello is gone, Martin," said Melissa, "it would be such a shame, after you've already gone halfway to N.E.W.T, and truth be told, you are better at Potions than ever."

"I'm not planning to quit," Dennis said darkly, "but I wouldn't bet Snape will let me stay."

At Hogsmeade, Celena was arranging some flowers in a vase on the table. She placed a few candles here and there, and with a flick of her wand, the room was filled with a warm yellow glow. She looked around her with a contented sigh. Their house was a long, low, green-tiled cottage. The front entrance, the one that led to their home, was from a narrow street. The other entrance, to the little shop, was from a busier street, one that featured several shops. The initial idea of opening a shop in Hogsmeade was planned as a cover-up for her residing there, but she expected she will rather enjoy it. And she loved the house from the moment she saw it. It reminded her of the two places she loved best: her friend Fleur's house, Shell Cottage, and the cottage in France where she and Severus spent their honeymoon.

She heard a knock on the door and jumped up, startled. Who could it be? No one from Hogwarts, she was certain of that – they're all at the feast now. She assumed it must be an eager customer, perhaps a young witch who heard enthusiastic reviews about "Celena's Serums".

"Shop is closed!" Celena called, "Stop by in the morning, we open at ten o'clock!"

"Sorry," she heard a familiar voice, "morning just won't cut it!"

She rushed to the door, and a moment later, she was already grasping a blue taloned hand.

"Kor!" She exclaimed, "I didn't expect to see you so soon!"

"Hagrid told me you'll be here, so I thought I'd stop by before the evening hunt. I'm glad you'll be close, even though you won't live in the castle anymore. Everything is fine, I trust?"

"As good as could be. How are things at the Forest?"

"We've had a quiet summer… but there's tension in the air, you know what I mean? As though we are being watched, and something is preparing to pounce on us. The centaurs feel it, too. Our patrols have been more vigilant than ever, and yet we didn't find anything. Goliath set up nightly training sessions for the younger ones, my sister and I are teaching. Not so much the physical and technical, more things like quick reactions, being conscious of every move, and not underestimating the enemy. The enemy won't care you're nearly hatchlings, we tell them. There may well be a time in the nearest future when the protection of the castle, and your own survival, depends on the skills you learn now."

"Does your sister still give Goliath a hard time?"

"You know how they are. They'll snarl and growl and hiss at each other, and later she'll purr at him and call him "my handsome", and they'll go off to some corner of the Forest and spend the night curled up together like two kittens. I told him I think he ought to put her in her place, but he says she's too beautiful when she's angry."

Celena remembered Demona's glowing red eyes, the swish of her powerful tail and the curling of her claws. Her eyes met Korian's slanted black ones, and she saw a twinkle in them.

"They have a new egg, by the way, and when it will hatch I hope she'll have something on her hands to keep her mind off things."

"How long does it take for a gargoyle egg to hatch?"

"About a year," Korian bared his sharp, pearly white teeth in a mischievous smile. "Well, I'm off. I'll tell the others you're here; I know they will be happy to hear it, especially Angela."

In the morning, as the bell rang, the Gryffindor seventh-years gloomily shuffled their feet down the stairs to the Potions classroom. The heavy wooden door opened with a creak, and they slowly filed into the classroom, careful to choose the tables at the very back and sit apart from the Slytherins. Listlessly, they pulled out their cauldrons, brass scales, vials, books and potion-making kits.

Everything in the surroundings showed that Snape is back. The dungeon was clean and tidily swept, but all the improvements Celena took care to place there the year before were gone. The comfortable cushioned chairs were replaced by old wooden three-legged stools again, the curtains and banners were taken off, and the place was lit by the flickering light of torches. Even though it was a warm September day outside, it was cold in the classroom.

Snape entered in a swish of long black robes. He stood in front of his students, a curl on his thin lips that could faintly resemble a smile to those with brave imaginations.

"Well, well, well," he began, sweeping his class with his gaze. "In all my years at Hogwarts, I have never seen such a large group of students that would attempt for a N.E.W.T in Potions. Of course, _my_standard for admitting students into the N.E.W.T program is no less than an "Outstanding" O.W.L. I know that Professor Costello had a more, shall we say, _charitable_ attitude, which is why this class is twice as large as I would expect it to be… but now I'm back."

Some of the Gryffindors exchanged glances. Does it mean that those who didn't have an "Outstanding" O.W.L are about to face expulsion after a year's worth of hard work?

"Following an arrangement made between Professor McGonagall, Professor Costello and myself, I will for the moment put aside my plan to expel every student who shouldn't have been here in the first place. Perhaps a year of work at N.E.W.T level has taught you something, though I highly doubt it. Professor Costello was far too easy on you. I browsed through last year's files and saw that none of you received a mark lower than "Exceeds Expectations", an indulgence I never allowed a class under my tutelage…"

"A result that could never be expected under my _gifted_ tutelage…" whispered Martin in a very good imitation of Professor Snape. Melissa giggled.

"Have you said something, Nordholm?" Snape flashed him a dangerous glance.

"We were merely wondering, Professor, whether we are going to continue from the same point where Professor Costello left off," Melissa politely offered.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for talking during my class without permission, Nordholm." Snape said sleekly, "Another ten points for answering a question that wasn't directed at you, Miss Hanson. Another ten points for idle thoughts during class, Creevey."

Dennis jumped up with a start, dropping the dried stem of glowing nettle he had been fiddling with since the beginning of class. Martin and Melissa stared at each other and sighed, silently resolving not to say an unnecessary word in class until end of term. Snape continued to talk.

"I want you to know that I have absolutely no intention to waste my time and effort on teaching a crowd of morons. I will not hide that I plan to make this class smaller. Experience – which is something Professor Costello, with all due respect to her, lacked – teaches me that in a smaller group, more material is covered, assignments are more accurately followed, and discipline is much more easily maintained. This means that not all of you will be here at the end of this term. In fact," his eyes narrowed maliciously as he glared pointedly at Dennis, "some of you may consider yourselves already on probation.

Now close your books. I want to see how much remained in your heads after a summer break. Can you tell me, Mr. Creevey, the five properties of Liquid Moonlight that make it such a valuable antidote against unknown poisons?"

Dennis blinked and stared at the bottom of his empty cauldron.

"I thought so. How about the difference between regular and midnight wormgrass?"

Dennis played with his quill.

"Why is an amethyst dissolved in dragon bile fatal to a werewolf?"

"It's not fair!" Dennis finally exploded. "If you want to know how much I learned, ask me questions from the previous term, not this one!"

Snape's lip curled.

"It's the same book, though, Mr. Creevey. The one you didn't bother to open throughout the entire summer. Ten points from Gryffindor."

"Does my memory play tricks on me, or is Snape even more horrible than when he taught us the year before last? Forty points from Gryffindor in one lesson! He awarded Slytherin twenty points just because Amanda Brinkley told him at which page to open the index!"

They took up one of the round tables in the Gryffindor common room, right in front of the crackling fire. Their books, rolls of parchment and quills were spread on the table. The room was filled with buzz and chatter of excited students who were busy catching up with their friends after a long break, but all the seventh-years who took Potions were hunched over their homework. The sixth-years, who heard the tale from them, were feverishly flipping through "A Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi", afraid of Snape's wrath.

"Nah, you just got used to the good life with Professor Costello, Melissa," said Martin, scratching out some words with his quill. "He was always like that. My suggestion is, let's just bow our heads and concentrate on our work, and we stand a fair chance to get our N.E.W.T."

"But it's so unfair, what he did to Dennis!" Melissa raged. "Dennis, _we_ know you didn't twiddle your thumbs during the summer. We were all busy working on the projects Professor Costello assigned us; we couldn't possibly have the time to read the entire textbook as well. And you did a great job on your project; it's just maddening Professor Snape brushed it away without even looking at it."

"Cheer up, mate," Martin clapped Dennis on his shoulder, "it's not your fault Snape took those twenty points off you, and everybody knows it. Luckily we have other things to do than worry about Snape. It's Quidditch trials this Saturday! I booked the pitch. Ten o'clock in the morning, and don't be late."

"I can't go." Dennis shook his head.

"What do you mean, you can't go? You're captain, you must be there."

"If I'm captain, shouldn't I have a word about when trials are held?"

"As soon as possible, Dennis! We need a Seeker, Samantha resigned from the team because she wants to study harder for her NEWTs - would never expect this from her. And we need Beaters, now that Saunders and O'Neil left. And the Slytherins are having their trials on Saturday too; the pitch is booked for them right after lunch. We can't lag behind them!"

"Then you hold the trials. Seriously, whoever you choose is fine, I trust you."

"I can't hold the trials alone, there are dozens of people clamoring to get in, I can't handle them all on my own! Why can't you be there?"

"I just can't go, I have a – a business to attend."

"A business?" Martin's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "May I ask which business? And does it, perchance, involve going to Hogsmeade?"

"And what if it does?" Dennis shot him a quick glance. "I'm running low on parchment and quills, and I need to pick up some fairy wings for my potions kit –"

"Yes, and I have dragon dung instead of brains!" Martin exploded. A few first-years who were gathered around the fire squeaked and scuttled away like mice. "As if we didn't do our shopping together in Diagon Alley last week! You bought a galleon's worth of parchment, it'll last you throughout the year and for all your job applications!"

"I forgot to pack some of my stuff. It will be a few days before Mom sends it along."

"Then borrow from me or Melissa." Martin lowered his voice and leaned over across the table, so that his head was very close to Dennis's. "Listen, mate. You and I both know that you plan to spend Saturday morning hanging around "Costello Concoctions". No, don't interrupt me. Do you realize we were close to losing the Quidditch cup to Slytherin last year, because of your idiotic fancy for Professor Costello? Even if we have free passage to Hogsmeade now, you can't just run off there every Saturday. Saturdays are for Quidditch – if you care about holding the cup this year, that is."

Without answering, Dennis got up, picked up his books and quill, and started towards the dormitory.

"Manage without me just this time," he called from the stairs, "I promise I will be there next week."

Martin gave Melissa an understanding glance, and sympathetically patted her on the shoulder.


	3. The Foe Glass

When he came home that night, Severus found his wife sitting on the sofa, two steaming mugs of tea on the low table in front of her, instead of wearing an apron and bustling in the kitchen as had been her custom until now. Upon seeing him, she rose to greet him, approached him, and brushed her lips lightly and tenderly against his. But when her eyes met his, there was a resolute strength in them that told him she had something on her mind she had meant to communicate.

"We need to talk," she said.

Severus's heart sank. He had already heard these words several times in the months they have been married, and although Celena was gentle and patient, ever forbearing, and never ungracious, the difference in their understanding of_ talking _was strikingly different. Severus was a reserved man. This was the effect, he supposed, of having grown up the only child of two parents who have long ceased to even keep up an appearance of domestic harmony. His father had been a man who was prone to fly off his handle, and whenever he threw one of his fits, his mother would purse her lips and grow sullen and silent. Sullen and silent, therefore, Severus had turned out as well.The first time his soul went astir in longing for a change was when he met Lily...

Celena, on the other hand, while an only child as well, grew up in a cheerful, affectionate, open-hearted family, with long gatherings of aunts, uncles and cousins behind long trestle tables set in the summer gardens of her great-aunt Eloise. So naturally, when it came to communication, her expectations have turned out to be somewhat different. As far as Severus was concerned, getting married was quite a sufficient declaration of feelings which should absolve him from _talking _for a good long while - say, the next twenty years or so.

However, he had already learned enough to know that trying to evade a conversation with his wife when she was determined on one, besides being discourteous, was futile. Therefore, he brought the appearance of keenest interest and utmost readiness to his face. "I'm listening," he said.

"I found this in the shop office today," Celena said, pulling a small, round mirror from under one of the sofa cushions. Shadowy shapes, blurry and indistinct, were moving in it.

"Ah," said Severus, somewhat relieved. He had a vague expectation of something else, he knew not what. "This is called a Double-Direction Foe Glass. I dropped one in your shop office, and I have another in my own office at Hogwarts, and this way I can have a look any moment and see whether everything is right. You see, there is a certain tricky charm I have managed - "

"I know how it works," Celena cut across him, looking none too pleased. She took a deep breath. "Severus," she said, "I believe you are taking this a tad too far."

Ah. He should have seen this coming. "And you aren't taking this seriously enough," he retorted. "Look, the shapes here - they are enemies. _Your_ enemies."

"Everyone who is on the right side has enemies in times like these," Celena said dismissively.

"And you most certainly have added to the number of yours by joining the Order! When matters of personal safety are in question - "

"Sometimes, some things are more important than our personal safety," she said gently but firmly.

"I could agree to that if it was my safety we were talking about," Severus said defiantly, "not yours."

"I appreciate your concern, but... forgive me, dear, but I believe you are becoming a bit... obsessive."

"Obsessive?" he flared up. "I will do anything it takes to protect my wife. If you call this obsession, I truly - "

"Severus," Celena interrupted him again, with the look of bringing herself to say something she had not meant to utter. "I am not Lily."

For a moment, he was so flabbergasted he could come up with no reply. "Of - of course," he eventually said in a quiet voice. "I know who you are."

"Do you?" Celena asked sharply. "Sometimes, I am not sure. I know where you are coming from," she said in a softened voice. "And I know you love me. I do too, you know that."

For a few seconds, Severus was silent. "To love is to fear," he finally said, in barely more than a whisper, "and I haven't been afraid for a very long time. Even during the last battle, when it became clear to me that Voldemort was determined to have me killed. I - I flinched at the thought of pain, but I wanted no escape. I merely wished for it to be over as soon as possible. Now, though..." he shook his head. "I will be worse than dead, Celena, if something happens to you." His eyes sought hers, ardent, passionate, completely at odds with the cold courtesy he was so well known for. The way he was looking at her now reminded her once more why she considered herself to be the luckiest woman in the world.

"What's a couple of pureblood-crazed lunatics to alloy our happiness?" she asked playfully, but he was not amused. He sighed and pressed her hand with earnest tenderness, then brought it to his lips. "I will not deny you remind me of Lily sometimes," he confessed, "she was like you in many aspects - brave, open-hearted, always a fighter for what is right and just, never with the smallest regard of her own security or comfort. And it was I," his face was contorted with pain of grief and remorse, "I, none other, who brought about her death."

"You didn't know," Celena said gently, returning the pressure of his fingers. She was familiar with the story.

"No," he ran a hand over his eyes, "I did not. But it was my weakness and folly, my conceit and arrogance, my willingness to follow those who would flatter me, that ruined all I held dear. That was how it all began. With my being sorted - no, my desire of being sorted into Slytherin."

Celena said nothing, but her eyes spoke volumes. About this particular time of his past, he had told her very few details. "I don't recall I ever told you how it came to pass that I became a Death Eater," he said.

"You didn't," she said quietly, "but you need not torment yourself, Severus. I know you deeply regretted that, and it is enough for me."

"No," he said, "it isn't enough. I want you to know."

"My love," she said, meaning to stop him as she saw the shadow of suffering come across his features, but he shook his head again.

"Imagine a boy," he said, "a lonely and unloved human being who grew up with barely tolerable comfort and care. I was of little consequence at home, but I was magically talented, I knew it, and my mother fueled my pride in it. The house of Slytherin is the place for ambitious wizards, she had always said. She had been a Slytherin herself - much good it did her, of course, ending up married to that ill-tempered Muggle who abhorred the very sight of a wand. But I would fare differently. And, from the time I first learned about Hogwarts, I lived in expectation of the letter that would ensure taking me away from home."

"When I was eleven years old, I had two dearest ambitions," continued Severus, "to get as far away as possible from my parents, and to remain close to Lily. It was now principally for her that I dreamed of distinguishing myself in Slytherin. While my wishes on the first one were as completely gratified as could possibly be – henceforth, I remained at Hogwarts during Christmas and Easter holidays, only coming back to Spinner's End for the summer – on the second I suffered partial disappointment. For, as you know, I was sorted into Slytherin, while for Lily, the Sorting Hat chose Gryffindor.

Lily's influence on me had blessed effects; for the first time in my life, there was someone who genuinely cared about me. With a friend such as her – to me she was more than a friend, indeed, to me she was the whole world – I was at first protected from the negative side of being a Slytherin. But this could not endure; in the common room by evenings, in whispers muttered behind the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, in confidential talk of the dormitories, the message was one: support for the rising power of the Dark Lord, sympathy with his ideas, desire to join him in his mission.

I cannot in good conscience claim that nothing of the pureblood mania resonated with me. Wizards have been long oppressed by Muggles, I was told; well, hadn't I shared a home with living proof of that statement? Wouldn't it be grand if my father were never allowed again to lock my wand and spellbooks away during the summer holidays?

And still, while I toyed with the idea of becoming a Death Eater, I'm not sure it would really have come to pass if it weren't for the breach between Lily and me at the end of our fifth year, when I called her _Mudblood_ in front of the whole school. She refused to even go back on speaking terms with me again, not before accusing me of the darkest ambitions one could possess. And then spite began its foul work on me. She called me a Death Eater? I would show her I am capable of as much as she imagined and more.

Moreover, there was the loneliness, Celena. Without boast, I can say I was a brilliant student – old Professor Slughorn, the Potions Master and head of Slytherin, was especially proud of me – but in reality I was lonely. Lily was my only true friend, and once I had lost her, I… I longed to earn distinction in other groups. Well, such another group had long been formed in Slytherin, and now they had my undivided energy. I was not a cruel boy; I flinched away at the thought of torturing Muggles or repressing Muggle-borns. But I was young, and weak, and easily swayed. And I wanted to be important."

"That is not at all an uncommon desire for an adolescent," Celena said encouragingly.

"Indeed," he nodded gravely. "But some become Prefects or form Gobstones clubs, while others choose to join the vilest and darkest sorcerers that ever walked upon this earth."

"But you weren't in contact with You-Know-Who himself at that time, were you?"

"No. _That_ happened in my seventh year; Lily had started going out with James Potter, and as much as I had tried to convince myself I didn't care about her anymore, I was torn apart. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt she was all I really wanted, but I could not indulge even the shadow of a hope we'd be friends again, let alone anything more. What tormented me perhaps most of all was that I _might_ have had a chance, had I not been such an utter fool; it was not until well after Lily stopped talking to me that she began to notice James Potter. _An arrogant toerag_, she called him to my face more than once. Had we continued as friends, had I remained close to her, her eyes would have been forced to open to what I felt – and who knows what might have happened?"

He noticed the struggle on the face of his wife; she was sympathetic and kind, but jealousy of the past was a cruel thing, and he stopped abruptly. "It doesn't matter now, not anymore," he said.

"Of course it does," said Celena, "it is all part of what made you the man you are today. Please, go on, my love."

He took her hand again and kissed it gratefully. "And so, during that wretched year, I was contacted by Lucius Malfoy. To give you some background, when I started at Hogwarts Lucius was a Prefect, a distinguished student, and he behaved most civilly to me from the start. He didn't allow the other boys to tease me for my shabby second-hand robes, and expressed his high hopes that Slytherin has got an important acquisition in me. By the time I was in my last year of school, Lucius has been out of Hogwarts for several years, and Merlin knows what he had been up to. Not any clearly defined pursuit, that was obvious; the name of Malfoy gave him enough consequence and opened all doors before him, and his being heir prevented the necessity of striving to gain his place in the world.

As it turned out, Malfoy had already been recruited by the Dark Lord, and he had offered me to arrange an introduction for me, and possibly admission right into Lord Voldemort's inner circle. I am ashamed to admit how flattered I was; I hope to regain some of your kindness in expressing how terrified I felt. Not many wizards of my age have been marked with such extraordinary confidence – but I wasn't foolish enough to delude myself I would be able to retract and change my mind. Once I gave myself over to the Dark Lord, I was to be his man until the day I died.

The results are known to you, so you will excuse me from dwelling on them. It will suffice to say that the folly was committed, the poisonous waters were jumped headlong into, and at my graduation party, I was already branded with the Dark Mark. I watched with savage rage how Lily danced with James Potter; she might think I am nothing now, I said to myself, but in a couple of years she will see how high I rise, and lament what she had thrown away.

A couple of years passed. I attended Lily's wedding in disguise, and drank myself into oblivion the next day. I believe it was the first and only time I was drunk in my life. Then I resolved to put her out of my mind; I knew she and Potter had had a baby, a little son, not long after, and I… I convinced myself that I didn't think of her anymore. I was working furiously back then, not stopping to see the horror of what I was doing; working on behalf of the Dark Lord, poisoning minds, subtly threatening, recruiting, providing information… my star was soon rising high, and I was deemed as promising a wizard as I could ever have imagined myself to be. It didn't admit a doubt I was going to become a man of high power once Voldemort's forces went into the open. But I sought to distinguish myself even more, to gain even more confidence with the Dark Lord. I was going to…"

"To deliver him the prophecy," Celena concluded quietly. Her husband nodded, for a moment too overpowered to speak.

"Yes," he said, his voice unsteady, "I gave him what I heard of the prophecy – the part that was known to me, at any rate – and from that moment, my world came crashing down. For the Dark Lord decided that to thwart the prophecy, he must get rid of the Potters. You may imagine what I felt. For the first time, I was begging Lord Voldemort as if for my own life – _please, I have been a loyal servant, I will be even truer to you, even more your man, if only you spare Lily Evans._ _That is all the reward I will ever ask of you. _Lord Voldemort graciously conceded. _The girl needn't die_, he said_. James Potter has become a nuisance; it is high time someone got him out of the way, but his wife will be spared, provided that she stands aside and allows me to get rid of her brat._ And I kissed the hem of his robes and thanked him profusely. _You are too good, my lord. Anything, everything, as long as she lives. _

It pains me beyond anything else to tell you that for a second, just a split second, I felt exultation at the thought of Lily free again. I pictured myself giving her condolences, and her finally forgiving me, coming to me for comfort, crying on my shoulder… even thanking me for contriving to spare her life… my heart was black, Celena. I was an unthinking, unfeeling, hardened, cruel man who still loved, but with mad obsession, with no regard for the happiness of my beloved, or for the innocent lives of her husband and son."

He turned away, and it took him several moments to compose himself. When he faced her again, his eyes were desperate, his face gaunt with the misery of long-gone, but vividly remembered past. "The next moment I realized, of course, that it was hopeless. I knew Lily; I knew she would never stand aside and let harm come to her husband and son. She was not one to submit meekly to such monstrosity. She would defy Lord Voldemort, and she would die. And so, as if curtain after curtain was lifted in my mind, the evil, the abominable mistake of those last few years have dawned upon me. I was wrong; I have always, from the beginning, been wrong. My foolish ambition, my mindless following of those I admired, caused me to put the woman I loved in mortal danger. I knew I had to rectify that mistake, or die in the attempt."

"So what did you do?" asked Celena, her eyes wide, her hand never leaving his shoulder.

"I did what no one would expect me to do. I scheduled a meeting with Albus Dumbledore, and he, despite the just contempt he felt towards me, agreed. He must have guessed, something must have told him that this was not a mere suggestion of parley between Lord Voldemort and himself. He was a wise man, Dumbledore. And I confessed it all to him – beyond shame, beyond pride, I told him of what I felt for Lily and begged him to put all his power into protecting her. Well, once Dumbledore knew the danger she was in, he was resolved to do all he could to save the Potters. And from that moment," he concluded, "I was his man."

There was a long silence, and he must have looked terrible, for he saw fear in Celena's eyes. "My love," she begged, "please, don't – "

"It didn't help," Snape continued, seized by a savage rush, "what could have helped, once Voldemort was determined to murder someone? No one whom he intended to kill ever survived, except for Harry Potter. And to him, to this boy, to the son of my rival, I was therefore to pledge my life, my power, my protection – for Dumbledore, in his foresight, predicted that the Dark Lord would return and rise even higher than before. And once that happened, he warned me, I would have to pretend that I never truly switched sides, that I remained loyal to the Death Eater cause all along.

It took many years, but finally, Lord Voldemort was again in power, and I was to play the dangerous game Dumbledore set me to. I confess to you I didn't think I would last very long, for no one could boast of deceiving the Dark Lord. But I am a rather good Occlumens, and I was received with open arms, although some suspicions, I know, lingered both in Lord Voldemort and his most faithful follower, Bellatrix Lestrange. The remainder of the doubt, however, was done away on my killing Albus Dumbledore. He knew he was slowly dying, and he asked me to stage this – I wish I never had to…" he ran a hand over his eyes again. "Well, I told you this part before, so I hope you will forgive me for preferring not to dwell on it. Hence, my way was clear. I was to aid the Potter boy, unsuspected by either him or – which was more difficult – the Dark Lord."

"But you succeeded," said Celena, "the war couldn't have been won without you."

"I played my part," he acknowledged curtly. "And that, in short, is the man you married, Celena. Spiteful, ill-judging, thoughtless, selfish, and incorrigibly wrong in all his notions. I hope that nearly two decades of penitence, guilt and grief have done something for me, but I still am…"

"A valiant man," she interrupted him, leaning closer and kissing him tenderly on the cheek, "a just man, a man of principle," her gentle fingers traced the lines of his face, "the man I love. The man I want," her lips touched his. He responded to her kiss, pulling her close, burying the fingers of one hand in her hair, sliding the other down her back.

"Celena," he said, and he said something else, he did not remember what; and she broke off and smiled, and kissed him again, and without knowing exactly how, they were advancing in direction of their bedroom, where the featherbed was wide and inviting and dried rose petals in a crystal vase spread a heady scent.

… An hour later, Celena eased herself from under her husband's arm and tickled his chin playfully with a strand of her hair. "Professor Snape," she murmured, "I'm afraid I have most ungraciously neglected to serve you your dinner. The Bolognese sauce must be all cold and congealed by now."

"I will heat it up," Severus offered, sitting up and reaching for the bath robe that was draped over a nearby chair. "Is it that pan on the stove top?"

"Yes," she nodded. "And Severus… I will take that Foe Glass back to the shop, if it please you."

He sighed, and tenderly caressed her cheek. She looked seductively beautiful amidst the rumpled sheets, her cheeks in a rosy glow, her hair all tumbled down her shoulders. "It would please me more if I could deem it safe to remove the Glass," he said, "but for now, I'm afraid, that is out of the question."


	4. Draught of Clarity

The first week at work went even better than Celena expected. Every day, from ten in the morning till five in the afternoon, she worked in the shop. The floor was shiny and clean, the tidy counter was neatly wiped, and the shelves were stacked with gleaming vials, bottles and jars filled with balms, serums, potions, pastes and powders Celena was busy making in the back room. When she wasn't receiving customers, she spent every free minute cutting, shredding, juicing, mixing and pouring. She hired a Hogwarts graduate named Luna Lovegood to help her run the shop. Luna was one of Celena's favorite students, who brilliantly completed her final year in Hogwarts and received an "Outstanding" N.E.W.T in Potions. Apart from keeping the cauldrons on fire and the routine merchandise going, she helped Celena with cleaning, sorting and stocking, as well as ordering ingredients and serving customers. Very soon, Celena was sure Luna would take over making some of the more complex potions. Luna was a girl of great intelligence and a quick perception, and her only shortcoming was her tendency to daydream, which just wouldn't do when the shop was full of customers.

"I don't expect you'll remain here too long, Luna," Celena said, "but for now, as a new graduate, this is good practice for you."

"I don't mind working in a shop," Luna shook her head, her eyes widening. "You make some of the most awesome potions I ever saw, Miss Costello!"

The witches who visited the shop were most interested, naturally, in the line of products called "Celena's Serums". While Celena regarded them as mere trifles, not really "serious" work, she couldn't deny that the potions disappeared like hot buns. Every day, there would be witches requesting the potions that would make protruding ears, freckles and pimples disappear – until the effect wore off. Celena was floored when she received an owl order for a month's worth stock of Smooth Skin Serum from a witch in Ireland.

On Saturday Celena woke up to the pounding of rain against the windows. This was the first rainy day after a week of very fine weather. Severus was already dressed and running a brush through his black hair. When he noticed she is awake, he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.

"I don't expect you will have too many customers in such weather," he said, "you can close the shop early, and when you are ready I will come back and we will spend the rest of the day together."

"I don't understand why you have to go at all," Celena pouted, "there are no classes today."

"I must be seen at breakfast."

"Come on, Severus. Stay here and we'll have breakfast together. Everybody will assume you overslept."

"After I went down to breakfast every single morning for the past fifteen years? It will arouse every bit of suspicion. Besides, Scott Castaway has a detention with me after breakfast. Two hours of scrubbing cauldrons by hand, under my supervision. He was late to class twice this week."

Despite herself, Celena smiled.

"I see marriage didn't make you go any softer on your students."

"Why should marriage make me softer to my students?" he replied, puzzled. "I married you, not them."

The solitary meals were this week's biggest disappointment for Celena. Classes at Hogwarts began at half past eight, which meant that Severus was up well before she was, and went off to eat breakfast at the castle. He didn't come over for lunch, even when she could have carved out some time, because he needed to be seen at the Great Hall. And they ate dinner late, because Severus couldn't leave before dinner was over at school. She hoped at least their weekends would be different. She sighed and reluctantly started setting the table for her lonely breakfast.

"Do you think anyone will visit the shop today, Miss Costello?" asked Luna.

Celena lifted up her head from the order form she was browsing. The rain fell thick and heavy outside, the sky, which went completely dark, blazed with lightning every few seconds. A rumble of thunder could be heard at distance.

"I doubt it," said Celena, "why don't you go into the workshop and mix up a batch of Shining Solution, Luna? We're running short of it. I'll work on filling these forms in the meantime."

Fifteen minutes later, when Luna was already busily tinkering in the workshop and Celena was trying to figure out how much shredded mandrake root they would need next month, the doorbell rang and a cloaked, hooded, drenched figure appeared in the doorway, forming a small puddle on the floor.

"Good morning," Celena said politely, as the young man shook off his sodden cloak, "Dennis! What a pleasant surprise."

Water was running down Dennis's robes and his hair was plastered to his forehead, but he was smiling.

"Good morning, Professor Costello."

"Oh, drop the professor; I'm not your teacher anymore. Now I'm simply…" she hesitated for the merest moment, then concluded, "simply Miss."

"Alright, good morning then, Miss Costello."

"What are you doing here in such weather, Dennis? Don't tell me you walked all the way from the castle? You couldn't have possibly passed your Apparition test yet, you're not of age."

"Well, yes… do you remember the summer assignment you gave us last term, Miss Costello?"

"Of course," she nodded. "To do some research, some thinking, learn some history of Potions through the ages, perhaps to come up with something interesting."

"I worked on it all summer," Dennis said eagerly, "but Professor Snape won't even look at it. I am… we are all so sorry you left, Miss Costello. After a year with you, being in Sn- in Professor Snape's class is – well, it just isn't the same."

Celena suppressed a smile.

"So what have you been up to, Dennis?"

Dennis pulled out something from the folds of his robes and handed it to her. It was a tightly rolled scroll of parchment and a small flask of dark glass.

Celena unrolled the scroll and read. She read again and again, and when she finally lifted up her head to look at Dennis, her eyes were sparkling.

"Dennis, oh, Dennis," she was giddy like a schoolgirl, and her cheeks were flushed, "did you really do that?"

He nodded, beaming.

Celena uncorked the flask and put it to her nose. It smelled of wildflowers and hay, and there was also a sharp scent she didn't recognize. A sudden doubt clouded her spirits.

"And are you… are you sure it works?"

"Positive. I tested it on our little sister during the summer, and also on my brother Colin and my cousin Dan. I thought it would be a clever idea, Miss Costello."

"Clever idea? _Clever idea?_ Dennis, do you realize… it takes a certain amount of cleverness to make a potion following instructions from a book. But to analyze ingredients, carefully evaluate the effect of each, and brew your own? This is something not everyone can do. And what you've done… it's outstanding work."

Dennis glowed with pride. Flush was creeping down from his cheeks to his neck.

"I had a good teacher. You have some very impressive merchandise in your shop, Miss Costello."

"Oh, stop it," Celena waved her hand dismissively. "Anti-Freckle potions cannot possibly compare to… do you have a name for this potion, Dennis?"

"I thought I could call it Draught of Clarity?" suggested Dennis.

"Splendid." She leaned closer, and Dennis caught the scent of her hair. She smelled of forest in the spring, and wildflowers, and moss. This aroma left him intoxicated. "Do you understand, Dennis," she continued in a low voice, "that you created more than a summer project – more than a clever potion – that you created a weapon?"

"I thought of that." He said slowly. "I mean… it can be used in many ways. That's why I didn't tell anyone about it – except Melissa and Martin… and they swore they won't tell anyone."

"Good. I do believe, however, that Professor McGonagall should know about it. Do you want to tell her? Or do you want me to do it?"

"I will tell her, Miss Costello. And you can keep the flask. I have a stock back at home."

Soon, Dennis was gone into the pouring rain that was only getting stronger and stronger. Celena called Luna from the back room and told her to take the rest of the day off.

Dennis flew like a bird on the wing all the way back to Hogwarts grounds, to the castle, to the common room in Gryffindor tower. Martin and Melissa were waiting for him there, looking disgruntled. They already changed into dry robes and Melissa was drying her hair in front of the fire. Because of the nasty weather, the common room was packed with students doing their homework or playing wizard chess or Exploding Snap.

"Any luck with the trials?" asked Dennis, feigning interest. Martin gave him a look reminiscent of Professor McGonagall when he was late to class.

"Well, if you really want to know, Mr. _Captain_," Martin spat out the last word, "we have two new Beaters, Thompson and Wilkins. I'm pretty happy with them. And I had to appoint Alice Rowan for Seeker –"

"… He caught her looking in the mirror right in the middle of trials," Melissa put in, sighing.

"… But we didn't have much choice. It was a slim pick, you know? With this weather, people were reluctant to show up, but I knew the Slytherins didn't put off their trials so I didn't dare to put off ours either. We cannot afford giving them a head-start. We must begin training the team right away. And speaking of training," Martin poked Dennis in the chest, "I booked the pitch for tomorrow as well, and we'll fly even if it snows. And I won't have you running off to Hogsmeade again, got it, Romeo?"

"Alright, alright," said Dennis, "I already did what I had to do anyway."

"What did you do?" Martin asked scathingly. "Declare your undying love for Professor Costello?"

"Don't be an idiot, I wouldn't do that – not yet, anyway –"

Melissa's quill hovered over the piece of parchment on which she was writing out her Transfiguration essay.

"What do you mean, not yet?" She asked suspiciously. "You mean you're seriously considering..?"

"Why not? I will come of age in a month, I'm graduating this year, I'm only a few years younger than her, and I grew two inches this summer."

"And your pimples are almost gone," added Martin. "Seriously, what was this business that was worth missing Quidditch trials for? I mean, I doubt people even noticed you weren't there, with me wearing your Captain robes and all this rain, but still…"

"I showed Celena my summer project," declared Dennis.

Melissa clasped a hand to her mouth.

"Seriously? I sure hope she was more impressed than Snape, because that was some project!"

"Impressed? She almost asked for my autograph then and there!" Dennis puffed out his chest.

Snape came home around noon, materializing in the middle of the living room. He propped his umbrella against the wall and pointed his wand at his soaked-through cloak. Hot steam poured out of his wand, drying his robes. Under his arm, he was holding a stack of essays.

"Still have to get through half of them," he told Celena. She took the essays from him and placed them on the table. She noticed many "D's", several "T's", a few "A's" and no "E's".

"Showing them the true meaning of hard work, Severus?" Celena smiled. He bent and kissed her lightly on the lips.

"You were too soft on them last year, Celena," he said, "it's almost as though they believe any rubbish they produce will be entitled to an Acceptable, and I intend to show them it isn't so. And the seventh-years? You landed me with some students I would never accept in my class."

"Such as?" Celena hid a twinkle in the corners of her eyes.

"Dennis Creevey, for example. I remember him from his fifth year. Honestly, I could swear that in five years in my class, the boy didn't learn so much as a clockwise stir. I was astonished he even managed to scrap an "E" O.W.L. I plan to have him out of my class at the first opportunity."

"You will do no such thing," Celena cut across him. "Dennis Creevey is a genius. He came to see me today, to show me the summer project you refused to look at. Severus, the boy did something I doubt you and I together could have done. He created a potion that is better than Veritaserum. Veritaserum just makes someone spit out the facts. This potion, Clarity Draught, enables even the most incompetent wizard to perform Legilimency on the strongest Occlumens. And even better: the one wishes to read the mind is also the one who is supposed to drink the potion, something that eliminates the difficulty of slipping the potion into the victim's drink."

She handed the flask to Snape. Just like she did before, he uncorked it and gave the contents a sniff. He looked up doubtfully at her.

"What makes you think this potion does what he said it does?" He asked. "What makes you think this isn't some megalomaniac fantasy of a seventeen-year-old?"

"Let's try it, then," Celena said resolutely, "right now, Severus. I know how good you are at both Legilimency and Occlumensy. You know I am incompetent at both. I'll take a swig of Clarity Draught, and we'll see what happens."

Celena put the flask to her lips and took a small sip. Then she looked Snape directly in the eyes. Instantly she felt as though she is rushing down a tunnel, into his mind and thoughts. She didn't even lift her wand. "The first time we met", she thought.

_"Protego!_" Snape lifted his wand, but to no avail.

There they were, a year ago, in McGonagall's office in Hogwarts. Celena stepped out of the fireplace and offered her hand for Snape to shake. But his hands were clasped behind his back, and he merely offered a light bow. "What were you thinking?" – demanded Celena, - "I want to know!"

"She's good-looking enough", she heard Snape's thoughts echoing inside her own head. "I must admit she's the prettiest witch I saw in a long time. But she comes from Beauxbatons, where they are woefully incompetent. I'll bet she only went there because she didn't get accepted to Hogwarts."

Celena cast down her gaze and smiled. She poked Snape in the arm.

"You were pretty good at hiding your thoughts, Professor Snape."

"I just hope you don't intend this for everyday use, Mrs. Snape, or any illusion of privacy will be gone."

"Do you realize what an important weapon this can potentially become, Severus? Think of all the Death Eaters that couldn't be interrogated until today because they are too good at Occlumency. This potion solves it. Dennis Creevey is brilliant."


	5. The plan

Celena persuaded her husband not to return to the castle for lunch, and they had a casual meal at the kitchen table. They were sharing a pot of soup Celena prepared the night before, and some crusty bread spread with butter.

"I forgot to tell you I invited a couple of people for dinner tonight," Celena said, "and I won't hear no from you, I will not have you dining at Hogwarts on Saturday night."

"Whom did you invite?" Snape asked suspiciously.

"Oh, you know… just my parents, and Uncle Remus and Dora, and Hagrid, and Fleur and Bill."

"A couple of people?" Snape raised his eyebrows. "According to my calculations, this will make us a company of nine."

"Yes, well," Celena smiled dreamily, "you know, Severus, I've always dreamed of getting married and having a house of my own, so I can have people over for tea and dinner, and entertain small parties. I can't wait to start. I've been slightly jealous when Fleur married Bill, and I saw what a lovely cottage she has and how cozily the two of them have settled there. And I don't want you to think I'm selfish, you can invite friends too – once we don't have to keep our marriage a secret anymore."

"You know perfectly well that I…" Snape started, and stopped.

There was an uncomfortable silence. Both of them knew what he wanted to say if he continued – _"that I don't have any friends"_.

"I'll tell you what," said Celena, rising from her chair and putting her arms around his neck, "I'll try to call it a night early, and then I'll be all yours. And tomorrow I won't have you off to breakfast, you'll stay here and we'll lounge around for as long as we want."

The dinner table was beautifully set, with a tablecloth of peach satin and matching napkins, and a centerpiece of tea roses in the center. The table groaned with the weight of china and crystal serving dishes – a wedding gift from her parents – bottles of wine, and pitchers of water, lemonade, and orange juice. The room was filled with clinking of cutlery and scraping of plates.

"'Onestly, I 'ave no idea when you 'ave found ze time to learn to cook so well, Celena!" exclaimed Fleur. A crisp baked potato, with a layer of creamy sauce, was speared over her fork. "Eet took me ages to learn after Bill and I married. You must be busy at ze shop, too. And I must say, you 'ave ze most delightful little cottage 'ere. When I saw eet, I thought – zis eez just ze place for you two."

Celena's parents were taking in the surroundings as well. This was their first visit to Celena's house. Remus Lupin was engaged in conversation with Hagrid and Bill. Dora was balancing little Teddy on her lap, feeding him morsels off her plate. Snape scarcely talked, but took care to fill everyone's goblets when they emptied.

"An' then I told 'em," Hagrid, engrossed in his tale, was wiping tears of laughter from his eyes with his enormous handkerchief, " 'an then I told 'em, sirs, yeh'd better stay away from them Skrewts, because they means business!"

Bill and Lupin roared with laughter.

"Everything is indeed delightful, my dear," said Romina Costello, "I'm very pleased for you – with the house, the situation of it, the shop, and especially your marriage to such a respectable man, a bit older than yourself, which is something I always said would be better for you, and much more distinguished than that Whitechap-"

"Romina!" Umberto hushed her by putting a hand on her sleeve. "Yes, we are very pleased to have you as our son-in-law, Severus. But we have been wondering, is all the secrecy really necessary?"

"I'm afraid it is, Mr. Costello," replied Snape, rather dryly.

"You do understand, Severus, zat eet eez only a matter of time before you are discovered?" asked Fleur.

She was right, and he knew it. He knew it would be impossible to hide it forever, and he knew that it was madness, that he was putting her life at risk – even as she stood in front of him and he was saying, "I, Severus Tobias, take you, Celena Genevieve…"

How could he resist, though? Those bright eyes, that looked at him with admiration like no woman looked at him ever before; the hair, soft and luscious between his fingers; her full lips, her hands, tenderly tracing his scars… no man could say no to her. Not even a man like Severus Snape, who used to think of himself as immune to the charms of women... since Lily was murdered. He never wanted to experience that kind of agony again. And now…

But he couldn't allow himself to look weak.

"Time," he said, "might be just what makes the difference between prudence and carelessness, danger and safety, life and death."

"Did you hear that?" Asked Bill, "There was a tap at the window! And there is another. Not expecting any mail tonight, are you, Celena?"

Sure enough, there was an unfamiliar tawny owl waiting for Celena at the window. It was wet and ruffled, but it looked as though it hadn't covered a long distance, and Celena assumed it came from Hogwarts. She untied a thin roll of parchment that was attached to the owl's leg, and while Celena was smoothing out the note, the owl took a swig of orange juice from her goblet and grabbed a chicken bone from her plate.

The note was in Professor McGonagall's familiar, neat and tiny writing, and contained only a couple of lines:

_"Severus and Celena, I must speak to you both as soon as possible. Could you come to my office at nine o'clock this evening? Please send your reply by return owl. Minerva McGonagall."_

Celena showed the note to Snape and scribbled a hasty "yes" at the bottom. She then tied the note to the owl's leg again. It gave a muffled hoot and took off.

Soon after that, the party began to disperse. Bill and Fleur were the first to leave; they Disapparated, not before Fleur hugged and kissed Celena on both cheeks and, to Snape's vast surprise, lightly pecked him on the cheek as well. Shortly after them, Celena's parents stepped into the fireplace, to emerge on the other side in their London apartment above "Costello Concoctions". Hagrid put on his rubber boots and raincoat, and wandered out into the downpour.

While Celena was balancing a stack of dirty plates over the tip of her wand, preparing to carry them into the kitchen, and Dora was rummaging for Teddy's boots, Lupin approached Snape and said in a low voice:

"I've been in your shoes, Severus."

"I beg your pardon?" Snape's voice was cool and dry.

"You know, after I married Dora, I felt the same way. I was much older than her, with a history of loneliness and personal disappointment, not known for my dashing good looks or fortune, and on top of all, a werewolf hunted by Death Eaters, which put her at risk alongside me. Shortly after we were married, I felt as though I made a terrible mistake by allowing myself, for once, to be guided by my feelings rather than caution. But then I understood life is not worth living if we let Voldemort's supporters separate us from our loved ones. For whatever reason, it was me she wanted, and I wasn't going to give up. My niece is the worthiest woman I could think of, and I want you to know, Severus, that despite all that happened between us in the past I think of you as a fine –"

"We'll be late if we don't hurry, Lupin," Snape interrupted him, "are you coming to Hogwarts with us?"

In the castle, they found Professor McGonagall in high spirits. She was pacing back and forth in her office, her tartan robes swirling after her. A flask full of Clarity Draught occupied a place of honor at the center of her desk.

"Mr. Creevey spoke to me." She said. "I congratulated him for his remarkable achievement, which will surely be remembered in the school records. And I congratulate you, Celena, for being wise enough to admit him to your classroom last year. Without your faith in Mr. Creevey's talent, we might have had a much harder time accomplishing the Order's next mission."

"Next mission, Minerva?" asked Remus Lupin.

"This is why we gathered here. Remus, Severus, I daresay you both remember our – ah – former colleague, Dolores Umbridge."

"The simpering old toad," Snape spat out with distaste.

"I didn't have the pleasure to be in Hogwarts during the year she spent here," said Lupin, - "But I remember all too well the laws she helped _pass for the proper restriction and subordination of half-breeds_. I told Celena."

"Well, it turns out that _Professor_ Umbridge is more than a miserable old hag." said McGonagall. "Sources which can hardly be doubted point to her belonging to the closest circles of Dark wizards, and even to You-Know-Who, in the time when his star shone brightly."

Lupin looked confused.

"I could never have guessed. She is a foul woman, no doubt, but she was always so devoted to Cornelius Fudge, to the Ministry… to all kinds of rules and regulations…"

"Oh, she certainly used her influence on Fudge in a clever way back then," said McGonagall, "she deprived our students from proper training in Defense Against the Dark Arts for a year! Those who didn't participate in the self-organized classes Harry Potter and his friends organized in secret, remained woefully unprepared. She terrorized and tortured the entire school. Had the Death Eaters succeeded to invade back then, they would have found us weakened. Moreover, Dolores Umbridge knew she didn't cover her tracks as carefully as she might have, so she took every possible measure to make up for it later."

"I think you must be confused, Minerva," interjected Snape, "Dolores Umbridge spent the last three years in a closed ward in St. Mungo's."

"So we thought. But now we believe that her insanity is nothing more than appearance, an attempt to ward off inquiries. Who would take a second glance at a woman who is not in her right mind, when there are still plenty of openly dangerous Death Eaters out there? Being insane is a clever cover. Even if she was convicted, most likely she wouldn't have been sent to Azkaban. By lying low and remaining at St. Mungo's, she rendered herself practically invulnerable to all our inquiries until recently. By pure coincidence, Dawlish happened to discover that Dolores Umbridge was visited by Narcissa Malfoy, out of the blue. Think about it! Narcissa Malfoy, a relation of Bellatrix Lestrange, who is probably the missing link that connects to all the tragic mysteries of the past year."

"I didn't even know Dolores Umbridge and Narcissa Malfoy knew each other," said Snape. "It doesn't surprise me, though. Lucius was always closely involved with the Ministry at the time of Fudge. Giving generous donations, paving his way into the powerful circles. So you think that..?"

"We think that Dolores Umbridge might know something that will shed light on what we are trying to find out. It must be something exceedingly valuable – and exceedingly dangerous. Otherwise, why hide?"

"Of course, if she does, it won't help if we just ask." Lupin put in, smiling.

"Of course not. And this is where Mr. Creevey's brilliant potion, Clarity Draught, steps in. If Dolores Umbridge is not insane, she is on guard. She will know the measures needed to protect herself from Veritaserum. I also suspect she's not a bad Occlumens. But she cannot expect a potion such as this. All we need to do is for one of us to go to St. Mungo's as a regular visitor, take a sip of Clarity Draught, and pay Umbridge a little visit. The next step will be a most curious glance into her supposedly befuddled mind."

"Sounds like a good plan," agreed Lupin. "Has anyone stepped up to the task yet, Minerva?"

"As a matter of fact, you are the first three I'm discussing this with, after hearing from Dawlish and Shacklebolt," said McGonagall. "and I thought that Celena might be just perfectly suited for this mission. Along with Shacklebolt, of course, and one of you two, and perhaps Bill Weasley…"

"Of course!" exclaimed Celena. "I used to work at St. Mungo's, I know how to do this without raising suspicion, and I know all the exits and entrances in case we need to escape…"

"Even more importantly, Dolores Umbridge knows Severus, she knows Lupin and Kingsley – if she sees one of them, she might instantly raise an alarm among her Death Eater pals. But she doesn't know you, and all you need is a moment to catch her unaware…"

"I still have my old St. Mungo's working robes." Celena seemed more and more excited each moment. "She will never be able to guess I'm not one of the nurses. Not until it's too late."

"I beg your pardon, Minerva," said Snape in his coldest, driest voice, "but I believe we have talked about my intention to guard my wife against every possible danger associated with coming back this year. And I hardly think this little tour to St. Mungo's –"

Celena stared at him, surprised.

"We talked about keeping our marriage secret, Severus," she said. "But this has nothing to do with me being your wife. This is simply about me being a member of the Order."

"They are bound to know Celena is in the Order, Severus," Lupin said gently. "I worry about her too. She is my niece, and she's much younger than you or me. How would I ever look Romina in the eye if anything were to happen to her only daughter? But Celena is also a full-fledged witch, and a very capable one, too. I don't deny she's taking a risk. By stepping in, each of us knowingly became a target to the Death Eaters. Though I admit, they want you especially, and if they knew Celena is your wife, she would become a much more desirable prey…"

"I will hear no more of this ramble." Snape clenched his fists. As he did that, he tried to ignore the prickle at his forearm, where his Dark Mark grew steadily stronger over the summer. "I'm coming along."


	6. The closed ward

Next morning found Celena standing in Professor McGonagall's circular office, wearing lime-green St. Mungo's robes. She also took a few generous swigs from several products of "Celena's Serums" line, and no one of her former co-workers would recognize her in the brown-skinned witch with short, dark spiky hair. The shop was well-stocked, and she figured it would be useful practice for Luna to be left in charge for one day. Snape, Lupin, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Bill Weasley stood next to her, inconspicuously dressed. Snape was looking grave.

"Remember the plan," said Professor McGonagall. "Act like regular visitors, and edge your way towards the closed ward. Be alert. You will pretend to be visiting the Longbottoms, while Celena will proceed towards Umbridge. You will then apply these Extendable Ears, courtesy of Mr. Fred and George Weasley. Remember, you are all acting just as a back-up to Celena. If all goes smoothly, you are supposed to leave as though nothing happened. But at the first sign of struggle or, indeed, of anything suspicious, you step forward. I suspect that Umbridge will not be too enthusiastic to enter an open struggle, as this will blow up her cover, but she might risk it if she feels she has no choice. Return to Hogwarts immediately after you are done."

A portkey – a teacup set on Professor McGonagall's desk – took them to the center of Muggle London, from where they swiftly and quietly proceeded to St. Mungo's.

Lupin took Celena by the elbow and whispered in her ear:

"If Severus had his way, you'd remain behind. For the sake of yourself and all those who love you, do be careful, Celena. Minerva is right, it is unlikely Dolores Umbridge will attack if she can help it. But if she does, remember that she is a former Ministry witch. She is dangerous. If anything at all goes amiss, give us a sign."

Celena broke off and was walking behind the rest of the party; a black cloak was thrown over her shoulders, hiding her uniform robes. She was afraid she might raise someone's suspicions, or some of the real workers of St. Mungo's might ask her to identify herself, which is why she was determined to enter as a simple visitor.

At the restricted ward, Snape, Lupin, Bill and Kingsley lingered near the beds of Frank and Alice Longbottom. Celena approached a motherly-looking, plump little witch in lime-green robes who was bustling around, adjusting the patients' pillows and cheerfully administering pills and potions. She faintly remembered her from the time she used to work at St. Mungo's, and recalled her name is Mathilda.

"Good morning," she said. "I'm here to visit Dolores Umbridge."

"Oh, poor Dolores," the plump nurse clucked her tongue compassionately. "Was such a prominent figure in the Ministry before this terrible ordeal, wasn't she? She has made great progress in the past couple of years, mind you, but I doubt she will ever be able to get back to normal life. You are not related to her, are you?"

"She used to teach us at Hogwarts," Celena came up with a quick lie. "And I was exceedingly fond of her in my school days. So sorry to hear of what happened to our beloved Professor Umbridge. I was just passing by and I thought, why not visit?"

"How very kind of you. You should know, she doesn't get visitors very often and when she does, she is sometimes frightened, poor dear. So be sure to tell her you are approaching, and move gently, or she might just throw a fit. I haven't checked on her this morning yet, so I cannot possibly know if this is a good day."

There was a restroom in the closed ward. Celena proceeded to the door with the sign that read "witches", and pulled out the flask of Clarity Draught. She took a long swallow. She then threw off her black cloak, produced a clipboard, and poked out her head to make sure Mathilda wasn't there. Kingsley Shacklebolt gave her the thumbs-up, and she quickly proceeded to Dolores Umbridge's room.

Umbridge was propped up in bed, leaning on several pillows and staring at the ceiling. In the green hospital gown, she looked fat and toad-like. Celena wondered whether she only stayed in this position during check-up and visiting hours, and what she did when she was sure no one was looking. She knew mental patients of the closed ward were not allowed a wand, but she was certain that Dolores Umbridge – if she was indeed what they thought her to be – was not without protection, and she wasn't sure she wanted to find out what this protection was.

There was a stack of hand-written leaflets and a quill on the little bedside table beside Umbridge's bed, and what Celena saw there made her doubt for a moment that their entire mission had a point: the topmost leaflet was written in a clearly trembling hand and read_, "By Hogwarts High Inquisitor, Dolores Umbridge, Educational Decree number four-hundred and twenty-six…"_

Are they following a false lead? She only needed one moment of eye contact and concentration to find out.

"Miss Umbridge?" She inquired in a professional, business-like voice. "I'm Melinda Taylor, a new nurse at the ward. I came to see how you are doing this morning."

Umbridge slowly turned her toad-like head in Celena's direction. She was pale and her hair was unkempt.

"Filthy… half… breeds." She croaked like a toad.

"Very nice," said Celena, scribbling on her clipboard and checking Umbridge's pulse. It was strong and slow. "Now please look at me, Miss Umbridge, I want to see whether your pupils are dilated."

Finally, she was looking into Umbridge's dull grayish eyes.

She felt a rush as she sank into the other woman's thoughts. "Voldemort's followers," – thought Celena, and surprisingly for herself, this was like giving a direction in the Knight bus. Umbridge, who seemed to realize what was going on, was struggling, attempting to shield herself, to break the eye-contact, but of course it was no good. Celena was there, transported to a towering fortress between two steep, wood-covered mountains under a dark grey sky. A tall, black-haired woman was walking down a corridor, saying:

"Don't be stupid, Lucius. Don't you think I have taken every measure to ensure the safety of my son? There is no way they can find us, not here…"

Umbridge managed to break off, panting. There was no dullness in her eyes anymore. Her stubby, short-fingered hand shot out for the quill on her bedside table, and Celena noticed how thick it was. In a flash, she pulled out her own wand and was pointing it at Umbridge's hand.

"I wouldn't try this if I were you, Miss Umbridge," she breathed, "unless you don't ever want to use that hand again."

"Quick. Simple. Elegant. Well done!" McGonagall congratulated them as they gathered back in her office later that day. "You are an invaluable acquirement to the Order, Celena."

"Celena needn't have done it." Snape put in. "Anyone could have."

It was maddening. Celena gave him the wait-until-it's-over look.

"You say so now, Snape," objected Kingsley, "but what if Umbridge had tried to flee? No one but Celena knows St. Mungo's. We could have lost her."

"Lucius Malfoy." Bill rubbed his chin. "I never trusted his repentance."

"Are you positive you couldn't make out the place of their hideout, Celena?" asked Lupin.

"No," Celena shook her head. "And as much as I try to derive details from the landscape, I cannot hold on to anything special… it certainly looks like Europe, but which part? Probably not Britain or France. Perhaps Germany or Romania."

"No matter." said Professor McGonagall. "Now that we have uncovered Umbridge and she's interrogated by the Ministry Aurors, it's only a matter of time until she gives away their whereabouts. And once we have that knowledge, we can gather forces that will pay a visit to those Death Eaters. It's very fortunate that Dolores Umbridge was isolated so quickly and did not have a chance to communicate with anyone."

"She had no dark mark," observed Bill.

"She was not a Death Eater in my…" Snape stopped. "I mean to say, twenty years ago. She must have joined the ranks after the Dark Lord's second rising. During that time he preferred to leave some of his servants unmarked, particularly those whose loyalty he doubted. The Dark Mark was direct evidence of belonging to the Dark Lord's most intimate circle, and in case someone was caught, it was not always desirable to have their association discovered immediately."

At night, by the flickering candlelight, between the silky sheets, they held each other until the candles burned low. His fingers caressed her soft hair and gently traced the curve of her back. Looking at his face, she saw the same strength, the same brave constancy that captivated her when she didn't know him yet as she did now.

"I want you to understand, Celena," he finally said, "that my only wish is to…"

"To keep me safe." She finished for him. She closed her eyes and buried her face in his chest. "I feel safe next to you."

He looked somber.

"You don't know what you are talking about."

"Severus?"

"Yes?"

"This… who we are looking for. You-Know-Who's son. Do you think he is as evil as the father?"

"A child born from the Dark Lord and Bellatrix? Most likely he is an abomination, but we cannot know for sure. At any rate the Order does not wish to immediately harm the boy. We simply want to know what sinister plans are being formed around him, and to intercept those plans."

"Have you never heard of him, or suspected his existence at all? Isn't it strange that Lord – that You-Know-Who never made known his plans for his son?"

"I assume that he acquired the child back in his first reign, when he was still human enough for weaknesses of the flesh. But he never had any use for a son, an heir. He fully meant to be immortal. I wouldn't be surprised if he told Bellatrix to raise the child in hiding, and she gave him over to someone else to raise. In fact it must be so, as Bellatrix spent fourteen years in Azkaban. The boy, if he indeed exists, was of no importance until the Dark Lord met his final end. Now the Death Eaters might be hoping to find a substitute to rally around. It is a dark time, Celena. They have Merlin's wand, the most powerful wand in the world after the Elder Wand was put to rest. They have it – why don't they use it? A boastful display of power would be so like them, it would set me somewhat at ease, but they aren't doing it, which means plans are being formed as we speak, more sinister than we can imagine. I didn't want to worry you, but my Dark Mark has been burning again, for the first time since the Dark Lord perished. They do not forgive. They do not forget. The Dark Lord wanted me dead, and though I won't come down without a fighting, I cannot fool myself to think I am safe. How shall I keep you, Celena? How shall I guard you? I didn't want you to join the Order."

"I can be of great use to the Order," Celena said softly.

In the semi-darkness, his black eyes bore into hers.

"I don't care of how much use you can be to the Order. I would desert the Order and take you out of the country with me, but I cannot be foolish enough to think I would cease being a target to the Death Eaters. The only, the one and only method of keeping you safe would be to send you away – you alone. But…"

"Let us speak of it no more," Celena took his hand and kissed it. "I am privileged to know your heart – a noble, brave, loyal heart - and be your wife. And I wouldn't think of giving it up."


	7. Who shall go?

As he was walking down to his next lesson, Snape was deep in thought. He didn't wish to be disturbed, so he just snapped at the seventh-years to take out their cauldrons and potion-making kits and open their books on page three-hundred and twenty-four.

"Leprechaun Liquid!" he declared, "Turns anything it touches to gold for one hour. Many otherwise great wizards have been hoodwinked by their inability to tell leprechaun gold from the real thing. By making it, you will be made familiar with the distinctive color, touch and smell of leprechaun gold. At the end of class, I will test you on your ability to recognize leprechaun gold, and next week, those of you who are unsuccessful – as, I daresay, most of you will be – will hand me an essay describing how to tell leprechaun gold is not real within the time frame of one minute. What are you all waiting for? You have exactly one hour. Move on!" he hissed.

This time, despite his custom, Snape didn't prowl the passages between the desks, looking down people's cauldrons and making snide remarks, but sat at his own desk, pretending to read through a stack of fourth-year essays that needed marking, but in reality brooding. At that very moment, Dolores Umbridge was being interrogated by the Ministry Aurors, who were attempting to break into her will, make her reveal the knowledge they were all so desperate to obtain. Would she crack and when? What would she tell them? And how much time will be lost in the meantime? Ah, if only he could get access to her, perform Legilimency on her himself – however well the Clarity Draught may work, he had far more confidence in the aptitude of his own Legilimency – but of course, now that she is in the Ministry's hands, he, a former Death Eater, had no chance whatsoever to approach her. He felt a sense of foreboding and urgency as the cursed spot on his left forearm burned and stung again.

Forty-five minutes passed in silence. However, at that point, when the class began to fill with greenish-gold fumes emitting from people's cauldrons, a diversion was supplied by Dennis Creevey and Slytherin Scott Castaway, who apparently put silent hexes on each other at the back desks of Snape's class. It was Dennis's cauldron which gave them away – with a loud _bang_following a spell from Castaway's wand, its bottom was blasted off, and both Castaway and Dennis, and all people in their vicinity stood on their chairs to avoid the rapidly spreading puddle of potion, which already made the old, rigid chairs acquire the appearance of pure, sparkling gold. Snape dried the potion with one sweep of his wand and approached the back desk, his black eyes glinting malevolently.

"What is the meaning of this?" He demanded in his cold, dry voice. "Creevey – explain!"

"He got me, Professor, look!" wailed Castaway, pointing at a number of ugly, green, unpleasantly pulsating boils that have erupted on his right cheek and were rapidly covering more and more of his face.

"Well, you tried to copy his work without permission, didn't you?" hissed Martin Nordholm. "He was provoked, Professor –"

"Silence." Snape cut across him. "Castaway, hospital wing, quickly. Mr. Nordholm, ten points from Gryffindor for speaking out of turn – and if you open your mouth again, I will make it twenty," he added when Samantha opened her mouth furiously. "Creevey… you stay behind after the class is over so we can settle the details of your detention. And of course, as there is nothing in your cauldron," the corners of Snape's mouth twitched maliciously, "you will receive zero for today's work."

Dennis couldn't speak. He just stood there, mouthing soundlessly, while Melissa Hanson cast him a sympathetic look and started to pack up his potion-making kit for him. She took as long as she dared, ignoring the ringing of the bell, but Snape shooed her away with the rest of the class. Holding his head up high, Dennis approached his desk, his mouth firmly set in a straight, thin line.

"Ah, Creevey," said Snape in a quiet, ominous voice. "_Creevey._ Thought you could do with a bit of exercise during my class, expert potioneer that you are? I regret to tell you, Mr. Creevey, that though you are no longer facing expulsion from this classroom, I am still within my right to enforce discipline here. This means detention, Creevey. Now, let's see… when should we have our cozy little get-together? A Sunday morning, when everyone are down watching a Quidditch match – should be nice and quiet, isn't that so? Or perhaps a Hogsmeade weekend?"

"Will Scott Castaway be doing his detention with me, then?" asked Dennis, doing his best to keep his face blank and his voice calm.

"How I deal with Castaway is none of your business." snapped Snape. "Be thankful I'm not taking any more points off Gryffindor. Now, as I was saying, your detention…"

At this very moment, Remus Lupin burst into the dungeon, clearly expecting to find it empty. His hair was askew and his face flushed – he was looking thoroughly excited, though he was obviously trying to hide his spirits in front of Dennis.

"Severus," he said, panting, "Thought you might be already at lunch. Minerva wants a word with both of us."

"Wait a few minutes, Lupin," replied Snape, not taking his eyes off Dennis, "we have to settle the details of Creevey's detention –"

"Oh, come, Severus!" Lupin exclaimed impatiently. "Leave the boy alone, this is far more important! I think this – this must be what we have been waiting for," he added, lowering his voice.

"Very well," said Snape irritably, casting Dennis one last look of deepest dislike. "Take your things, Creevey, and get out of my sight."

"...He let you off?" Martin's jaw dropped, and his quill hovered, suspended, over his Charms homework, which was now blotched with purple ink. "I can't believe it – he just _let you off?_ No detention and no points taken off Gryffindor? After you left Scott Castaway's face looking like a cluster of poisonous mushrooms? Man, you know what, I think nothing like this happened in all our years with Snape – this must be your lucky day –"

"I wonder why, though," said Dennis, furrowing his eyebrow and pulling his own Charms homework towards him. "He was really enjoying himself, taunting me, until Professor Lupin came along – I thought I could say goodbye to Quidditch until end of term –"

"Perhaps he realized it would look extremely unfair if he gave you a detention while letting Castaway off?" suggested Melissa.

"Oh come on," said Martin, waving a dismissive hand, "since when has Snape cared about what it looks like when he openly favours his own house? He has been doing it ever since we know him. No, it must have been something really important, what Lupin came to tell him about – and he was clearly in a hurry to discuss it – and it was obvious he didn't want to do that in front of you."

"No, of course not," said Dennis bitterly, scribbling an opening sentence to his Charms essay, "they won't tell me anything, even though they are obviously keen to use my work to some unknown purpose. I handed my entire stock of Clarity Draught to McGonagall, thinking this would earn me some trust, but obviously I was wrong."

"You know, a lot of things are strange about Snape this term," said Melissa Hanson, thoughtfully resting her chin on her hand.

"Such as?" Martin asked dismissively, "He still looks like a nasty, bullying, greasy-haired –"

"That's just it, you see!" Melissa's voice was victorious, "_Have_ you looked at his hair recently? It is _not_ oily anymore – in fact it is sleek, shiny and well-combed. And his robes? Have you seen his robes?"

"Well, he always wears the same robes, doesn't he?" said Dennis, "Long and black, with a high collar and a green and silver badge – never saw him wear anything else since our first year, unless he's going down to the Quidditch pitch to cheer on Slytherin, he might put on a green scarf for the occasion –"

"Oh, you boys never notice anything, do you?" Melissa said exasperatedly, "Yes, he still wears identical black robes every day – but they are _new_, and there is not a crinkle on them. His robes used to look like he just took them out of a musty cupboard where they spent twenty years lying on a shelf. And the other day it got hot in the Potions classroom and he opened his collar a bit – his undershirt was pristine white, while it used to be grayish – and his shoes, it's difficult to notice because his robes are so long, but if you look carefully you'll see they're all shiny - he's definitely putting more effort into his appearance. But why?"

"Perhaps he decided that now that he's Deputy Headmaster, he ought to wash his hair once in a while?" suggested Dennis.

"Nah," said Martin, "he was Deputy Headmaster last year too, what has changed? If you ask me, this is something different. Perhaps – perhaps he's aiming for a higher rank. A job at the Ministry? I don't know… but anyway, if we're talking about Snape, Melissa, you ought to have noticed something other than his robes or hair is different."

"Oh, you have noticed it too, have you?" asked Melissa, looking pleased.

"What are you on about?" asked Dennis.

"He's been absent from the staff table at meal times much more often than usual," said Martin. Melissa nodded in agreement. "Especially at breakfast, and sometimes at dinner. Which makes me think he has some business to attend outside Hogwarts – but it can't be something to hold him away all day, because he's never missed a lesson – or lunch. But what can it be? I have no idea. And don't ask me to decipher how Snape's mind works."

And he resolutely rolled up his Charms essay, not before siphoning the inky blotch with his wand.

...Snape and Lupin were rapidly ascending the circular staircase leading to the Headmistress' office. Excited voices could be heard through the heavy oak door with the brass knocker. When they entered, they saw Professor McGonagall, who was pacing back and front, next to Kingsley Shacklebolt and Celena, who were on the edge of their seats.

"Ah, Severus and Remus!" said McGonagall. "Finally! Sit down, please. Students will probably notice our absence from lunch, but it's too urgent to postpone even by half an hour."

Snape took a seat by his wife's side, who gave him just one look, glowing with enthusiasm and excitement; Lupin sat next to Kingsley.

"You probably know why we are all here," said McGonagall. "Dolores Umbridge."

"The Aurors did it, then?" asked Lupin. "Made her reveal the location of the Death Eaters' outpost?"

"You could say as much," said McGonagall, "naturally, the place is Unplottable, and probably concealed by the Fidelius Charm as well, but now we have a pretty good guess where it is. Of course, it took grueling work on part of the Aurors – a great deal of very skilled Legilimency, even with the help of Clarity Draught – and a powerful Memory Charm. Nevertheless, we got the approximate location – their stronghold is in a forest in Bulgaria, one that is said to be favored by Gregorovitch for getting wand-making materials. And apparently, they have another favorite spot, in Albania – not far from Voldemort's last hideout – they move between the two locations."

"Is it a castle?" asked Celena.

"From what could be extracted out of Umbridge, it's a fortress. And I suppose its protection must be excellent."

"Did Umbridge tell who can be found there?" asked Lupin, "Not that we don't have our guesses already…"

"Oh, it's not that hard to guess," said Snape, his lip curling, "Bellatrix. Lucius. Nott, Avery, Macnair… the old crowd. There may be others too, of course…"

"So," said Kingsley, rubbing his hands. "What is the plan? What do we do now? I suppose some of us will have to go to Bulgaria to investigate – though I wouldn't mind grabbing a bite before that –"

"I apologize for being discourteous," said McGonagall, magicking a plate of sandwiches and cakes and a tray of dark glass bottles onto her desk. "We are going to need our strength, and I thought we all deserve a little treat, so I ordered these from The Three Broomsticks –"

"Butterbeers!" Celena exclaimed cheerfully, starting to hand round the bottles. "Just perfect for a bit of refreshment – here, Severus –"

"I don't fancy Butterbeer," said Snape through gritted teeth, pushing his bottle away, "too sweet and foamy."

"Oh come on, Severus, we are having a little celebration here, aren't we?" Celena pressed his bottle on him, uncorked her own and took a sip. It went smoothly down her throat. She always had a weakness for Butterbeer.

"As to going to Bulgaria," said Professor McGonagall, "yes, someone will have to go."

"I will go," said Kingsley in his deep, slow voice. "They'll get along without me for a few days in the Ministry."

"Who else?" asked McGonagall, "I would go myself, but obviously, as Headmistress of this school, this is out of the question. Same goes for Hagrid, he's Head of House. And Severus, too –"

"I'll go," said Celena, "I can leave Luna in charge for a couple of days, the shop is well-stocked and she's more than up to the job –"

"That would be most unwise." said Snape in an icy voice.

"Why?" Celena looked at him, her brow furrowed. "We aren't going to try to take over the Death Eaters' fortress with two wands, Severus, we're just going to do some poking around –"

_"Why? Because you are my wife,"_ he thought, _"because I want to keep you here, by my side, safe in our home, safe and happy. Because I cannot bear to think something might happen to you. Because, when you are away, it is like a part of my soul is walking out of my body. It makes me vulnerable, and I hate that."_

"Lupin can go," said Snape. "And I'll take his classes for him."

"I'm afraid you will have to do so in the next two days anyway, Severus," Lupin said darkly, "it's full moon tonight – and I won't be in a fit state to go anywhere. I'm traveling home by Floo powder, and intend to take some Wolfsbane potion, curl up in the basement, and spend tomorrow sleeping."

"What about the young ones, then?" Snape persisted. "Ron Weasley – or Potter – not that I would voluntarily trust them with something this important –"

"Potter and Weasley are in the middle of Ministry Auror training session, which will take two weeks," said Kingsley. "The other Weasleys are busy too."

"Kingsley and Celena will go," said McGonagall. "But remember – you will be only checking the terrain, nothing more. Do not do anything reckless, least of all attempt to tackle any Death Eaters on your own. You will take a Portkey from my office later this evening, and arrive in Bulgaria. Mr. Krum will fill you in upon your arrival."

"Krum?" squealed Celena in girlish delight. "_Viktor_ Krum?"

"That's the one," said Kingsley airily. "An invaluable source of information and help among our Bulgarian friends."

"I had no idea he was working with us!"

"Well, he does have to be extra careful, given that he is a famous Quidditch player and it would do no good for him to be recognized while he's doing work for the Order – he's been leaning heavily on Concealment Charms and Polyjuice Potion, and wearing a hooded cloak whenever it is appropriate."

"Oh, it will be so delightful to see him again!" Celena said rapturously. "Fleur and I became such good friends with Viktor during the Triwizard Tournament year. I remember, at Fleur's wedding –"

"I think we all remember Bill and Fleur's wedding," Lupin said grimly. Everyone knew he referred to the Death Eaters crashing during the wedding party, during which they attempted to seize Harry Potter.

"Yes, Uncle, but before that, when the dancing just started –"

Her husband shot her a dangerous look.

"Let us just get on discussing what must be done, shall we?"

In the hours between the end of lessons and dinner, Snape paced around his Hogsmeade home, watching his wife pack.

"Just for a day or two, Professor McGonagall said – so I'll only take one set of spare robes, I think – now, where have all my stockings gone?.. And where's my toothbrush? Sev, have you seen my toothbrush?"

"I think you left it on the mantelpiece." He said coolly. "Don't ask me why."

Celena let go of her traveling bag, into which she previously crammed a bottle of shampoo, and looked at Snape. Her face was shining with excitement.

"My first ever mission abroad, Severus! It's not anything big, I know, but…"

"It's not a daytrip either," he said, sounding slightly exasperated. "And if I had my way, you wouldn't be in the Order at all."

"Oh, nonsense! How could I bear to be left out when you, Hagrid, my uncle and his wife, Bill and Fleur –"

"Listen," he said, stepping closer and seizing her by the shoulders. "Please do not go _poking around_ more than necessary."

Celena smiled and wrapped her arms around him.

"Don't worry. I will send you an owl when I arrive."

"Don't," he said, "owls might be intercepted on such a long journey, and the Floo network might be watched. Just be careful, Celena.'


	8. Happy news

Celena drew her indigo-blue travel cloak tighter around her shoulders. Her hair was neatly pulled back in a long plait that fell down her back. She was holding her traveling bag in one hand; her other hand rested on Severus's sleeve as they listened to Professor McGonagall's final instructions. Celena, Snape, Lupin and Kingsley Shacklebolt were waiting for the activation of the Portkey in Professor McGonagall's office.

"Any moment now – yes – Celena, Kingsley, step forward –"

An empty ink bottle on Professor McGonagall's desk had just glowed bright blue. Celena gave her husband one last, encouraging smile which he did not return. There was concern in the final look he gave her, and he looked so unapproachable that she only just mustered the courage to give him a swift kiss on the cheek before she pulled off one of her gloves, reached out, and pressed one forefinger to the Portkey at the same second as Kingsley.

They rushed forward in a whirl of color and sound, and after a few seconds, softly landed on the outskirts of a small village nestled between two mountains. It was already dusk, and thick grey clouds obscured the dying sunlight. Great rumbles of thunder could be heard very close.

In the faint light, they could only just see the outline of a man's figure standing not far from them. A wand ignited in the man's hand, and its light threw into view the thick dark eyebrows, hooked nose and short dark hair of Viktor Krum.

"Finally!" He said, rushing to greet them, yet moving as quietly as possible. "I vos already starting to vonder –"

"Viktor," Celena said breathlessly, getting up from her feet, "it's lovely to see you!"

Krum warmly grasped hands with Celena and gave Kingsley a curt nod.

"You look vunderful, Celena," he said, "I believe congratulations are in order on your marriage – I must say, it vos a surprise –"

"Well, Mr. Krum – Celena – we'd better get going," said Kingsley

Celena gave him an incredulous look.

"Surely, Kingsley, you aren't thinking about going to explore the area in this weather? Of course, we're unlikely to be noticed or overheard, but it looks like it's about to rain and it's getting dark –"

A lightning blazed across the sky as she spoke, and another mighty rumble of thunder came from somewhere very close to them.

"That's just what I'm saying," amended Kinglsey, "it's about to rain, and I'd much rather be somewhere warm and dry when it starts pouring. Mr. Krum, do you perchance –"

"There is a place in the village," said Krum, "invisible to Muggles. It is called 'The Bear's Retreat'. I ordered lodgings there for us, I hope it vill be alright."

"The Bear's Retreat", on the front step of which Celena, Kingsley and Krum Apparated, was an ancient-looking pub roughly built of wood and stone. Apparently, it combined the functions of an inn and a gathering spot for the local magical folk. It was packed and noisy, and especially crowded around the bar, where people were shouting orders at the harassed-looking barman, a tall, tanned man with long graying hair and a blind over one eye which gave him the look of a pirate.

"Yes, I thought it vouldn't be easy to find seats now," said Krum, eyeing the room in search of a free table, "ah – there, look," and he led them to the very back of the pub, where they drew three chairs and sat cramped around a small, rough wooden table which looked as though it had just been wiped. Just as they crossed the threshold of the pub, it began to pour, and now rain was beating violently against the small windows.

"I am going to get us drinks," said Krum, "what vould you like to haff? Mead? Wine? Raki?"

Celena looked around her. At the table next to theirs, a group of warlocks sat hunched over glasses of blood-red wine. A man two tables away was sipping a slightly smoking, poisonous-looking vivid green beverage that looked like the middle stage of "Celena's Curly Hair Solution". What she really wanted was a foaming tankard of hot Butterbeer, but she supposed they didn't serve it here.

"I'll have a glass of light white wine, if they have it," she made up her mind, "thank you, Viktor."

"I think I'll try raki," Kingsley said daringly. "It's the local favorite, isn't it?"

Krum nodded and made his way towards the bar. Shortly, he was back, accompanied by an attractive, curvy girl wearing a neat, light-blue apron and bearing a tray laden with drinks and a platter of bread, cheese and olives. She eyed Kingsley with great interest from under her long, dark eyelashes. He was the only black wizard in the bar, a rather unfamiliar sight, even considering the two vampires who sat bored and brooding at a table not far from them. The girl placed their drinks in front of each of them.

"Cheers," said Kingsley, raising his glass of raki and taking a sip. "It's strong, this stuff – just what I needed to warm up on an evening like this."

Smacking his lips, he popped an olive into his mouth.

Celena took a ginger sip of her wine. Krum raised his glass to his lips.

"To tell you the truth, Viktor," said Celena, "I'm surprised you were able to take time off Quidditch to do this – but then again, you took almost a year off to do the Triwizard Tournament back then –"

"Yes, vell," Krum replied darkly, "I did, and this is much more important than Quidditch anyway. Not that I stopped training, I'm still on Bulgaria's national team –"

"I presume we are going to do – er – a bit of sightseeing tomorrow?" asked Kingsley.

"We vill talk about it later, upstairs," muttered Krum, "far too risky to haff this discussion here."

After they ate and drank, they went upstairs. They had three adjacent rooms, of which Celena's was the largest, and there they sat around a table to talk about what would await them tomorrow.

"See those treetops?" said Krum. "That is where we vill be going. That forest. There haff been very strange incidents there, concerning both wizards and Muggles. But funnily, no one has been able to penetrate farther than a certain point – we vill try and check its borders tomorrow –"

"No doubt the place is surrounded by complex protective charms," frowned Kingsley. "I hope you realize how careful we will have to be. We'll have to delete our tracks and cast _Muffliato."_

"Oh, I don't think they will attack unless they absolutely have to," said Celena, "I mean, they are bound to notice we are more than wandering villagers – and how can they know there aren't more of us around? They will want to keep their cover. But of course I agree with you, Kingsley, we must take every measure of security. Actually, Viktor, don't you think it would be better if we go now?"

"At night?" Krum shook his head, "Not really, no. If we are detected it will be more suspicious and they vill be more ready to act. Tomorrow morning. We should all get some sleep now. I vill wake you at dawn, Celena."

After Krum and Kingsley had gone to their rooms, Celena sat down on the narrow, creaky bed. With a sigh, she untied her thick bun of shiny, wavy chestnut hair and started to brush it. All of a sudden, her heart ached with longing and she wished she were home. It could be so easy to throw a pinch of Floo powder into the grate, to talk to Severus, to reassure him that all is well – but she knew it was too risky. She knew he was worried, and she hoped to be home by tomorrow evening.

They were on their way at daybreak, hidden under long, dark, thick hooded cloaks, talking in careful whispers. No one seemed to pay attention to them as they got out of the inn and headed in the direction of the forest. Thankfully, the rain ceased, but it was muddy and chilly, and even though Celena was wearing heavy padded robes, she was shivering slightly.

The forest did not strike her as particularly eerie – it was full of the rustle of small animals coming back from the night's hunt, and of chirping birds. Edible mushrooms grew here and there in clusters, and the pale grey sky could be clearly seen through the treetops, some of which were beginning to thin and shed yellow, red and brown leaves upon the ground. Yet as they delved deeper and deeper into the forest, it became increasingly quieter. There were no barriers, nothing to stop them, yet all three felt that there is something crucial they are missing, some misstep they are constantly making. They all felt a powerful presence of someone – or something – yet they were unable to define it. A shiver passed down Celena's spine.

"Hang on," said Kingsley, "It's somewhere here."

"You think?.." Celena looked up at him.

"Yes, I felt it too," said Krum, "but I don't think we vill be able to find anything more right now."

"It confirms our suspicions," said Kingsley, "there is definitely something here – something Unplottable, and I'll go as far as to say that it's something big, because we are definitely feeling a presence of some invisible place – which doesn't usually happen with normal Unplottable objects. But it doesn't really help us. If their stronghold is here, and it has been made Unplottable, we can go round and round in circles infinitely, and we will not be able to find anything. Wand-waving will be of little use here. Our best bet, I think, is to go back and start looking for people who know something about this place and its defenses."

"I vill question the locals," said Krum, "chances are very slim, I know, but perhaps some of them saw one or more of the Death Eaters we presume are hiding in here. And later I vill return to Hogsmeade with you."

"You will?" Celena raised her eyebrows, pleasantly surprised.

"Yes – if we are planning to penetrate this place, by votever means, I am going to spend some time vith the Order of the Phoenix. You vill benefit from having someone local vorking vith you."

"Thank you, Mr. Krum," said Kingsley, "it will be an honor."

It was not the most exciting mission after all, Celena thought as she packed her things after a dinner at the inn. She and Kingsley spent the day mostly huddled behind a table at the back of the bar, sipping ale and wine and watching Viktor dart between tables, talking to the locals in rapid Bulgarian. Celena guessed from the start it was no good – all she saw were shrugs and shaking of heads, and Viktor looked surlier than ever when he came back to their table, defeated, and ordered a glass of wine.

"Nothing," he said. "they haff noticed strangers coming and going, but their descriptions don't tell me anything."

"No more than I expected," said Kingsley, "the Death Eaters are too careful, and I expect they are operating under a multitude of disguises. They are probably very apt at Concealment charms, and I will be surprised if they don't constantly replenish their stocks of Polyjuice Potion. Still, Viktor, it's useful to be on the lookout for anything unusual."

Their Portkey, which was set for eight o'clock in the evening, took them to the high street in Hogsmeade. There their ways separated. Kingsley and Krum went straight to the Three Broomsticks, to the fireplace out of which they would travel to Professor McGonagall's office to present a report of what they have seen. Celena, in the meantime, lost no time in going home.

She found her husband in the sitting room, where he reclined in one of their shiny leather armchairs, poring over a letter, his eyebrows knitted together. As soon as he noticed her, he laid the letter aside and got up. Celena threw back the hood of her traveling cloak, lowered her bag onto the floor, and made a few steps towards him while he covered the remaining distance. He buried his hands in her hair and she caressed the back of his neck. They kissed softly, and Celena rested her head on his chest while he wrapped his arms around her in a protective gesture.

"Welcome back," said Snape. His voice sounded hoarse.

"I'm glad to be home, Severus," whispered Celena.

"How was your trip?"

"You will be pleased to hear that the greatest danger of our journey was that of catching cold," said Celena, looking up at him and smiling slightly with a twinkle in her eyes.

"I surmised as much," said Snape, shrugging.

"You did?" Celena raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"Certainly. Otherwise, how could I possibly allow you to go? No, I knew that it is highly unlikely the Dark Lord's followers will chance to break their disguise to attack you when there is almost no way you will do them any real damage or find out anything about them. Breaking into their stronghold will require much more cunning – and I'm guessing that my personal assistance in the matter will be required."

"What have you been up to while I was gone?" asked Celena when they broke apart. As her husband's eyes flickered towards the letter he left upon the table and a shadow momentarily came upon his face, Celena looked at it too. It was an unfurled roll of parchment blotchily scribbled in an unfamiliar handwriting. "What is it? Bad news, Severus?"

"No," said Snape, apparently hesitating as to what and how he should say, "it's a letter from – from the Potter boy," it seemed as though every word was costing him tremendous effort.

"You mean _Harry_ _Potter_?" Celena's eyes widened. 'What is he writing to you about? Does it have anything to do with the Order?.."

"No – not at all - you remember Ginny Weasley, of course? Their marriage is to take place next month – there is an invitation enclosed with the letter."

"Oh, how wonderful!" exclaimed Celena in rapturous delight. "Oh, Severus, what marvelous news – I do love weddings – do you think it will be too cold for my violet dress robes? If not, I might wear –"

"That is not all," continued Snape in a voice of forced calm, though Celena thought she could indicate a hint of tremor, "He – he has asked me to be his best man."

Celena's jaw dropped. Snape was studying a carved silver chandelier that was standing upon the table, illuminating the room in a warm yellow glow.

"Sev, that is – that is incredible! I'm so happy for you!"

He averted his eyes from the flickering flame of the candles and looked directly at her.

"You must know I could not possibly expect this," he said, sounding even hoarser than before, "Potter and I – we were never exactly on good terms while he was at school – the number of times I had him in detention… and he asked me, of all people – I thought he would surely ask Lupin to be his best man. Or Ron Weasley, or even Hagrid…"

"Don't be silly, Sev, of course it must be you, it makes perfect sense – after all you did for him, after all the years you had looked out for him, all the risks you took, and the times you saved his life – now that he knows it, naturally he sees you in an entirely different light - of course he should ask you, I think it's only appropriate –"

"There is more," continued Snape, and by the tone of his deliberately quiet voice Celena knew that until now he withheld the message that bore most significance to him, "in his letter, he said that if – if he has sons – well, obviously, the first will be named James, after his father, but if he has another son, he intends to name him after… after me," he finished, almost inaudibly.

"Oh, Severus," Celena said softly, at a loss for words.

"I am going to send him a reply now," said Snape, trying to sound casual, "try and get some sense into him. It is enough that I am going to be his best man, which is preposterous if you think about it, but – Severus Potter? I don't think I could bear it."

"I think Harry is merely looking for a way to express his gratitude, Severus," said Celena, beaming. Despite her husband's reserved attitude, she has learned him too well and knew how much this meant to him.

"What I did, I did not do for him," Snape said quietly, "it was all for –"

He stopped, unable to continue, unable to swallow the lump that had risen in his throat. There was a long, comforting silence, and Celena held one of his hands in both of hers.

"For Lily," she said calmly, even though these words gave her a pang she worked hard to conceal. "I know. If anything, he ought to appreciate it even more."

"Still… _Severus Potter_…" muttered Snape, gradually becoming his usual self, "that would be a bit too – too – perhaps as a middle name… yes, that would be quite enough, I daresay… I will write to him. Have you seen my quill?"


	9. Snape's reflections

One night, Severus abruptly awakened from a dream that faded too rapidly to be consciously remembered, yet left him with a racing heart and a reeling brain. His breathing soon steadied, but there was no going back to sleep, as a very lucid clarity enveloped his mind, banishing all traces of sleepiness.

He rolled over to his side, propping himself up on his elbow, and stared at the beautiful, peaceful face of his wife, who was fast asleep, her features almost ethereal in the ray of moonlight that illuminated them. Again, Severus could not but marvel at the wonder of it all. The chain of events that led him to be lying here, by Celena's side, as her husband, seemed more and more improbable, miraculous even, the more he thought it.

His thoughts went back to when they first met. Her beauty and liveliness made her appear to him at first merely as a pretty, but not very clever young woman – certainly not one to be an adequate candidate for filling the Potions Master vacancy. Her love of fashion and elegance, her excessive, in his opinion, indulgence of the students, her gesture of goodwill in accepting so many sixth-years into the NEWT class – all this further confirmed his opinion of her as somebody who wasn't really ready to step into his shoes.

Very soon, however, he was forced to accept that her intelligence was a match for his own, and her magical skill prodigious. The way she had succeeded making Reviving Potion under such pressure of time and circumstance was remarkable, and the students, he grudgingly had to admit, were doing at least no worse than under his own tutelage. And, alarmingly for himself, he began to be aware of things that ought not to have been of the slightest significance to him – the way her hair caught the sunlight, the sway of her hips as she walked, the sensual curve of her full lips.

Moreover, the way she had dealt with the betrayal of her fiance (of which he became aware almost despite his will, from the wave of fervent gossiping it caused all over the school) did a great credit to both her heart and her head. She was composed and dignified at every point, even when the rascal had the audacity of forcing his company upon her in her office in Hogwarts.

Of course, he had no intention whatsoever of indulging such feelings, let alone revealing them. He, a gloomy bachelor of nearly forty with a dark and tragic past, could never expect to succeed with a young beauty in her early twenties – especially someone who was so convinced of his solid dislike for her, and with whom they weren't on the best terms from the start.

He later got the notion that his character was somewhat reformed in her eyes – she became, at least, convinced that she shouldn't expect any material danger from him. Her coming to him on an apologetic visit, following her unjust assumption he was going to attack her in the Forbidden Forest, signed something of a truce. Yet nothing would have prompted him to reveal his feelings, if she hadn't found out about his past love for Lily, and hadn't had the courage to bring it up.

When she spoke to him about it, he felt as though she was trying to break through the ice encasing his heart – and the shards of ice hurt badly. Yet there was something in her eyes... a compassionate respect, a warmth, an admiration even, that – coupled with the Dementor attack they withstood thogether, and a shot of Firewhisky – made him momentarily lose his head and betray all he felt by attacking her with a passionate kiss.

Had she recoiled, had she sprung back in shock, had she slapped him, he would probably have left the country the next morning. But there was no mistaking her reaction – taken by surprise by this whirl of emotion only slightly more than himself, she actually kissed him back.

He was, of course, supposed to talk to her after what happened, to confront her, but he had tried to go on as usual – partly because he feared to discover that it was all a momentarily illusion, an instant of madness that can never return again, a dream built on quicksand; and partly because he, as a honorable man, would not, should not make her sacrifice the hopes of her young life for anything he could possibly offer her.

Oh, why pretend. What a coward you were, Severus Snape, giving up every possibility of life, love and happiness, simply out of fear of being rejected as you once had been.

Still, they remained in the same school as colleagues, and he continued narrowly observing her, sometimes clinging on to hope as he detected a tremor of her eyelashes, an embarrassed warmth in her voice. As for himself, he had already given the cause up for lost – he could no more guard his emotions, he was deeply in love with her, and his only goal now, if all hope should be vain, was to preserve his dignity.

Nothing would have advanced between them, of course, had it not been for her own bold initiative which yanked off the last bit of pretense off his heart, and prompted him to make the most sensible, eligible next step – make an offer of himself to her, hand and heart, for as long as they both shall live. It was incredible, but it turned out that she really preferred him to any other man in the world, despite him being neither young, affluent, spirited nor dashing. She loved him as he loved her, and within a very short time, he found himself exchanging marriage vows with a woman who had enchanted him, as he was now forced to confess, almost from the start.

He stared at his wife, his heart full to bursting, loving her more than life itself. He laid his head on the pillow, side by side with hers, listening to the sound of her even breathing and inhaling the fragrance of her hair. In her warm acceptance, in her steady affection he had, for the first time in his life, found happiness.


	10. To The Burrow

The news that Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley are going to be married spread around Hogsmeade and Hogwarts like wildfire. People seemed to talk of little else, in fact. The next day after they had read Harry's letter, Celena entered the shop to find Luna Lovegood very pleased.

"Ginny wrote to me and asked me to be her bridesmaid!" She told excitedly, "It was very nice of her, wasn't it? And Hermione Granger is going to be the other bridesmaid – I do like her too – oh, it's going to be so lovely!"

"Oh, certainly," replied Celena, smiling, "I can't wait to see Ginny as a bride. I'm sure she is going to be beautiful."

"Were you invited too, then, Professor?"

"Oh – yes – I'm quite friendly with the Weasleys, you know," Celena hastily explained, "I know them through Fleur, their eldest son's wife – we're best friends."

That was true, and Celena was happy that she had a valid reason to attend Ginny's wedding without rousing anyone's suspicion. She was very much looking forward to seeing her husband as best man, and wouldn't miss it for the world, even though she knew conspiracy would have to be ingenious if they want to continue keeping their secret – something she was seriously doubtful about. Severus, however, got so wound up whenever she mentioned the possibility of revealing their marriage to the public that she decided to drop the subject for now.

"Are you going with someone, Luna?" asked Celena.

"Oh – yes, I'm going with Neville," said Luna, and Celena thought she could detect the faintest hint of a blush on the usually serene features of Miss Lovegood, "Neville Longbottom, you know – but of course you wouldn't know him personally, we used to go to school together, but he left the year before me –"

"I have met him and his grandmother when I worked at St. Mungo's, actually," said Celena, "talked a bit with Mrs. Longbottom while Neville was visiting – his – his parents."

There was a sad, understanding little silence between them while Celena and Luna both thought about the sad fate of Frank and Alice Longbottom, who were tortured into madness by Bellatrix Lestrange and have been in a closed ward in St. Mungo's ever since.

"Are you going out with Neville, then?" finally asked Celena, and Luna seized the subject with gratitude, looking pleasantly embarrassed.

"Well – yes – sort of - it has been going on for a while, actually - I told him that we don't have to come to the wedding together, that we'll meet there anyway as Ginny has invited us both, but Neville said there's no need to hide. I mean, we're not at school now, no one is going to laugh –"

Surprises kept coming. Later that day, during lunch break, Celena had a letter delivered by a very old, very frail-looking owl, who looked on the verge of fainting and had to take many long, steadying gulps from her cup of tea before taking off again. The letter was from Mrs. Weasley, and Celena hastily opened it and scanned its contents. It was short and clearly written in a haste.

_Dear Celena,_

_By now you must have heard our wonderful news – I'm simply wild with happiness for Ginny and dear Harry, who is really going to become part of our family now. This is going to be a very special day for all of us._

_We are looking forward to hosting the wedding here at the Burrow, just like we did when Bill married Fleur. It's going to be crowded, even though we will, of course, set up a Magical Marquee, but Ginny and Harry wouldn't hear of having the wedding anywhere else. _

_Since Severus is going to be best man, I thought it would be a good idea for you two to come to the Burrow the day before the wedding, so we can go through the details together, do a rehearsal and make sure there won't be any blunders on the big day. It will be weekend so it shouldn't be too inconvenient. _

_The house, of course, will be packed as Ron and Hermione and Fred and George have decided to come a little earlier too, but I'll have a room reserved for you and you should be comfortable. Let me know when we can expect you. _

_Looking forward to seeing you,_

_Molly Weasley_

"Stay overnight with the Weasleys to attend a wedding rehearsal?" Snape frowned at the prospect as Celena showed him Mrs. Weasley's letter. "Don't they realize how busy I am going to be during the weekends?"

To Celena's great dismay her husband, who couldn't be absent from Hogwarts too much during the week, told her most of his weekends will soon be occupied by trying to solve the mystery of the Death Eaters' stronghold in the Bulgarian forest.

"Oh, lighten up, Sev, it's only a couple of days," Celena said airily, "besides, I really don't see how you can refuse after you already wrote to Harry and said you will be his best man. I'll pack your new dress robes, shall I?"

The weekend before they were to depart to the Burrow, Snape was gone during most of Sunday, to the dismay of his wife. He only appeared when the table was long laid out for dinner, the food that Celena prepared earlier that day already getting cold.

"Where have you been?" asked Celena, trying to keep indignation out of her voice. After all, he did promise to spend the entire day with her, and she was looking forward to a few quiet hours together, a pleasant respite from what had been a long and busy week for them both – he at school, she in her shop.

"I visited Malfoy Manor," said Snape, shedding his long black traveling cloak. He looked rather tired and apprehensive.

"At Malfoy - ? But… what have you been doing there?"

"Oh, I took advantage of the fact that Lucius is still in Azkaban," told Snape, accepting the glass of wine she handed him, "I hoped Narcissa would prove to be more persuadable, and provide me with some useful information about our current – for lack of a better word – target."

Celena froze on her way to fetch another bottle of wine.

"And?" she prompted.

"And it appears that, quite apart from not trusting me any longer, my friends Lucius and Narcissa are no longer in he close circle of Death Eaters who would have much important knowledge. The interview, however, was not a complete waste of time. I managed to extract from Narcissa that the stronghold of the Death Eaters is protected by the Fidelius Charm, and that Bellatrix is one of the Secret Keepers."

"Not a complete waste of time!" repeated Celena, paling, "Have you reported this to Professor McGonagall?"

"I stopped at Hogwarts on my way here. Minerva wondered how I got Narcissa to say anything at all, to which I replied that few people are able to resist a combination of assertive manner, carefully worded questions and a swig of Veritaserum. I avoided using Draught of Clarity, you see, because I didn't want Narcissa to be aware that I have penetrated her intimate thoughts."

However casual he tried to sound, it was clear that Snape's excursion to Malfoy Manor had left him exhausted, and Celena's expression softened as she started ladling soup into their bowls.

"So now what?" she asked him once they had finished their first course.

"Now it is all a matter of convincing Bellatrix to let me in on the secret," said Snape.

Celena laughed mirthlessly.

"And you think this is going to work, Severus? Bellatrix was always the one who trusted you least of all You-Know-Who's supporters. And now, when she knows you have been spying for her master's worst enemy all along –"

"I will have to find the means of convincing her I was the Dark Lord's faithful servant after all," said Snape, contemplating his roast chicken, apparently lost in thought, "I will have to make her trust me. I see no other way."

"But Severus," continued Celena, half skeptical, half frightened, "to convince Bellatrix, first you have to find her, and she has been gone all the time since Voldemort's fall – and even if you do find her – won't it be dangerous?"

"Dangerous?" Snape raised his eyebrows. "Of course it will be dangerous, it's Bellatrix Lestrange we are talking about. But I know Bella, and I will be fine. Narcissa promised to try and get me an audience with her charming sister – in return for my working on behalf of Lucius, to try and get him out of Azkaban. I promised I would do that."

"And will you really?" Celena sounded quizzical. "Try and get Lucius Malfoy out of Azkaban? He deserved what he got, surely you don't think –"

"I don't think any harm will be done if Lucius at least gets to spend some time at home. All kinds of enchantments can be cast upon Malfoy Manor to prevent him from sneaking out."

"Alright then," sighed Celena, "but whenever you schedule your get-together with Bellatrix Lestrange, make sure it isn't next weekend. The wedding, remember?"

Celena had visited the Burrow once before, on the occasion of Bill and Fleur's wedding, and unmistakably she pointed out towards a large, lopsided house just visible from the edge of the field where she and Severus had just Apparated.

"There it is, Severus," she said happily.

"I still have second thoughts about coming here," he said grumpily. "Do you realize how strange it is going to look, me as best man at Potter's wedding?"

"Oh, nonsense, Severus, _of course_ you are doing just the right thing – let's get going, or Mrs. Weasley will start to wonder –"

They started walking across the field, Snape carrying their bags. It would have been far easier to suspend the bags in mid-air by a simple Locomotor spell, but they didn't dare to risk it in broad daylight when Muggles might be present.

At the entrance to the Burrow, where the garden was spruced up and the fence was painted, they were welcomed by a flustered Mrs. Weasley, who wiped her hands on her apron before giving Celena a hug. She attempted a nervous smile in the direction of Severus, who returned a stiff nod. Obviously, it was very strange for Mrs. Weasley to have him as a guest in her home, but she attempted to brave it.

"Hello, Severus – Celena – I have Percy's old bedroom all set for you, it's right upstairs – here, let me help you with your things –"

Ushered forward by Mrs. Weasley, they climbed upstairs to a small, shabby but neat bedroom, where two beds were pushed together and covered by a freshly laundered sheet and a heap of pillows and blankets. A washing sink stood in the corner of the room, next to an old, scratched closet.

"There you go – I hope you will be comfortable here. We are having the wedding rehearsal right before dinner, while there is still light outside. In the meantime I'll be downstairs in the kitchen if you need me."

When the door creaked and closed behind Mrs. Weasley, Celena turned and smiled at her husband. In the golden afternoon sunlight, she could see a large white marquee in the orchard, very much like the one that hosted Bill and Fleur's wedding over two years ago. A golden flag was billowing on top of it in the wind of an unusually warm autumn day.

"Would you like a cup of tea, Severus?" asked Celena, "I can go downstairs and fetch it."

"Yes, thank you," he said, stiffly sitting upon the bed. It looked unlikely he would emerge from the room until he absolutely had to.

Celena easily found the kitchen, which was filled with smells of Mrs. Weasley's delicious cooking. Mrs. Weasley, who was prodding a large pot with her wand when Celena entered, proved to be much more talkative and carefree without Snape around.

"So happy you could come, Celena dear – and Severus, I'm so glad he agreed to be best man, it seems so important to dear Harry – of course, I think they should make amends after all that has happened – but all the same, cannot be easy."

"You must be so excited, Mrs. Weasley," said Celena.

"Oh, just call me Molly, dear!"

"Thanks, Molly – isn't it surprising, that Ginny is the first of your children to get married after Bill?"

"Ah, it does seem a little early for them to marry, Ginny fresh out of Hogwarts and Harry still in the midst of training," admitted Mrs. Weasley, waving her wand airily and causing a large steak-and-kidney pie to slide neatly out of the oven and rest itself on the stovetop. "But we have known for ages that they are perfect for each other, and we love dear Harry so – he's really like another son to me, has been for years. I have hoped he would marry Ginny for a long time before there was even a hint of anything between them. So in their case, I believe there is not much point in waiting. They have enough to live comfortably on if they are prudent, and they got the loveliest little house, not far from here. It's a dream come true for me – for us all. And now, as Percy plans to marry Penelope, and hopefully Ron has the sense to propose to Hermione soon enough, I'll be expecting two more weddings soon – which will leave just Charlie, Fred, and George, who will, I hope, meet someone decent – which seems unlikely at the point, I must say, seeing how busy they all are with their careers –"

"Talking of marrying us off, Mum?" said a grinning Fred, who just walked into the kitchen, followed by his twin. Both stopped to give Celena a swift hug. "Doesn't look like it's going to happen anytime soon – nice seeing you here, Celena!"

"Hi, Fred," said Celena, taking a tray bearing two cups of steaming tea and some ginger newts from Mrs. Weasley. "Hi, George. Came to watch the wedding rehearsal?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," said George, the second Weasley twin, smiling at Celena.

"Well, I'm going to take this upstairs to Severus," said Celena, indicating the tray she was holding, "it looks as though he's in need of refreshment. Molly, you'll tell us when it's time to come downstairs, right? See you later, Fred, George."

Mrs. Weasley watched Celena ascending up the narrow, rickety staircase, and there was a definite wistfulness in her voice as she spoke.

"She's such a nice young woman. And intelligent, and good-looking too. I must admit, I rather fancied something might happen between her and Charlie when Fleur introduced them, but oh well –"

'I actually hoped she might choose one of us when we first met her in her parents' shop in Diagon Alley," admitted George, "though I understood, of course, that she might choose anyone, stunning as she is."

"Precisely," said Fred, "she could have chosen anyone. _Anyone_. And she chose Snape. Snape, of all people. It's so weird – seeing Snape here, as her husband – are we sure he doesn't have her Imperiused?"

"Fred!" Mrs. Weasley cried out in indignation, "I'd have thought, given how we now know for sure Professor Snape was on our side all along –"

"I know, I know – but still, that doesn't make him any more likeable – and I still don't see how on earth she could have married him. I thought I should ask her once –"

Mrs. Weasley looked very stern.

"I forbid you to do any such thing, Fred. No, don't you dare. I won't pretend I'm not curious about how it all came to be, but prying into it would be extremely nosy and meddlesome."

At five, when shadows already started creeping over the house and garden, there was a knock on the door of Severus and Celena's room, and they went downstairs with Mrs. Weasley. Fred, George, Ron and Hermione were already assembled next to the front door, ready to go out, and together, they made their way towards the orchard. Everyone tried to act as naturally as possible – Fred and George were cracking jokes on Ron's account, Hermione was chatting to Mrs. Weasley and Celena, but Snape's gloomy, rigid silence seemed to overrule and cast a shadow over them all.

Finally, they stood in front of the entrance to the huge white marquee. Celena was the last to enter. It looked very much the same as it had looked at Bill and Fleur's wedding, with many rows of fragile-looking golden chairs assembled on two sides of a long carpet, except that the carpet was not purple now, but red and gold, presumably to match the Gryffindor colors of the bride and groom. It looked eerily empty, with so few of them inside, and Celena tried to imagine what it would be like the next day, when Ginny would glide along the aisle arm in arm with Mr. Weasley, watched by hundreds of admiring eyes, and later, when the guests would break into applause, and the air will be thick with laughter and song and the clinking of goblets and plates, and the whiteness of the marquee would be diluted by many colorful robes, hats, cloaks and gleaming jewels… she suppressed a small sigh. She had always loved weddings, and had dreamed of having a wedding like Fleur's one day, yet her own had been so small. It doesn't really matter, of course, she told herself firmly. She certainly preferred to be married to Severus with no ceremony to speak of, than have a fancy wedding and be stuck for the rest of her life with someone like her former fiancé, Timothy Whitechapple. Still, she could not suppress the tiny stab of longing as she imagined how Harry and Ginny would be proclaimed husband and wife, to tumultuous applause worthy of the Quidditch World Cup.

"Oh, here they come. Finally," said Mrs. Weasley, somewhat nervously.

Sure enough, as everybody turned to look, Harry and Ginny walked in, both wearing casual Muggle clothes – jeans and sweatshirts.

"There you are, Ginny, Harry dear," said Mrs. Weasley, "I have been expecting you earlier – well, up front you go, Harry, Severus –"

But Harry, after leaning close to Ginny to whisper something in her ear, had eyes for no one but his former Master of Potions, who drifted off to the side of the small group. He approached Snape, so that the two were standing slightly apart from everyone else, and boldly said:

"Thank you for coming, Professor Snape."

" I was rather surprised to receive your letter, Potter," said Snape, attempting to keep his face blank, yet Celena, who was watching her husband intently, saw how much effort this was costing him.

"I thought this is a good opportunity to properly thank you for everything you have done, Professor," Harry pressed on. Fred, George and Ron exchanged distinctly uncomfortable looks. "For everything you have done for me. For all of us."

Snape stared at him, whatever words he intended to say apparently stuck in his throat.

"I never knew, until the very end," continued Harry, "I would never have known, if you hadn't given me that memory when you thought you were dying. You watched out for me all these years. You saved my life more times than I can count –"

Two tears ran down Celena's cheeks. She quietly brushed them away with the back of her hand. A sideways glance at Ginny told her Ginny's eyes were distinctly red.

"You saved my life too," said Snape, "if you hadn't applied essence of dittany and phoenix tears back then –"

"That was different," contradicted Harry. "You were about to die, I would have done it for anyone. And I confess, Professor Snape, I didn't want you to die like that, at the hands of Voldemort. Back then, before seeing your memory, I was still sure you were serving him, and I wanted you to be tried and sent to Azkaban. But you – you dedicated your entire life to protecting me. When we were all alone, Ron, Hermione and me, looking for Horcruxes, we knew someone was watching over us, and it gave us confidence - and that someone was you. You risked your life. You were Dumbledore's right hand. When Voldemort tried and failed to hunt me, on the night when I left Privet Drive, you were there, making sure he would not harm me. And that night in the forest, it was your Patronus that led me to the sword of Godric Gryffindor. And it wasn't just me you saved, either, you saved hundreds of students from torture and mutilation while Voldemort was at large and you were Headmaster."

Harry, it seemed, was determined to keep talking, to let out what he has meant to say for a long time.

"But you never got any respect, any appreciation. We always suspected and mistrusted you. There was a time when I hated you as much as I hated Voldemort – when I thought you were a murderer –"

"Well, Potter – I must say I cannot blame – it really appeared as though – there was no way you could have known –"

For once, Snape's sarcastic eloquence had failed him.

"I called you a coward once," Harry's voice quivered and broke. "I take my words back. Severus Snape, you are probably the bravest man I ever knew."

Both men took one step towards each other and grasped hands, in an open gesture such as had never existed between them before. A gesture of respect, of hope and possibility, and through the tears that blurred Celena's vision, she saw that a rare smile lifted the corners of her husband's lips.


	11. The wedding

The wedding ceremony was due to start at noon, and therefore the inhabitants and guests of the Burrow rose early to make time for last-minute preparations. While her husband occupied the shower and she was still puffy-eyed and wearing a dressing gown, Celena was startled by a knock on the door and opened to find Mrs. Weasley standing in front of her, carrying a heavily laden breakfast tray.

"Oh, Molly – thank you, you shouldn't have bothered – have we overslept?"

"No, no, don't worry, Celena – the kitchen is such a mess you wouldn't even have space to squeeze yourselves in next to the table, so everyone are breakfasting in their rooms. I'll be off now, I must check on Ginny, Fleur is supposed to be helping her fix her hair –"

"Ah, are Bill and Fleur here already?" asked Celena, pleasantly surprised.

"Yes, I daresay you will see them soon enough," said Mrs. Weasley, adjusting her apron. She was not wearing dress robes yet. "Well, I really must get going, Celena dear – I'll see you later. Tell Severus not to be late, please, he and Harry are supposed to be ready well before the guests start arriving."

After Celena and Severus ate their share of toast and marmalade, eggs and porridge, and drank two cups of tea each, they dressed. Snape put on a handsome set of new, high-collared dress robes in iron-grey, set off by a brooch of emerald and silver. His black hair was carefully brushed and neatly parted around his pale face. With a flourish of her wand, Celena conjured a single white rose out of thin air and attached it to one of his buttonholes.

"There," she said with a smile. "That's the finishing touch. You look very handsome."

Indeed, he looked well, and younger by far than she had ever seen him. It was obvious yesterday's conversation with Harry Potter stirred something in his heart he was not willing to admit yet. There was unusually obvious tenderness in his expression as he brushed a lock of chestnut hair from her face.

Celena put on an inconspicuous black dress, with a square cut that accentuated the porcelain whiteness of her skin. But no matter how simple she tried to look, she was still full of grace and elegance, with her beautiful string of pearls and small pearl earrings, and her glittering narrow black heels. Her hair was pinned up in a sleek knot, exposing her slender neck.

The guests started arriving around eleven, and by noon, the marquee was full of excited buzzing, of glitter of jewels and smell of perfume, of feathers adorning the witches' hats and diamond, ruby, sapphire and emerald pins gleaming on wizards' robes. Celena was sitting in the second row with Fleur, bursting with pride and excitement as she looked at her husband, standing in front of the aisle next to Harry, who looked beside himself with excitement; he nervously tried to flatten his hair and glanced every few seconds at a rather battered gold watch that was dangling from his wrist. Ginny was about to appear any second.

Not far from where she, Fleur and Bill were sitting, Celena noticed three people, who were looking rather twitchily about them – a large man with a bushy mustache, his bony wife who was clutching his arm and a blond, broad-shouldered young man who was obviously their son. They were the only ones among the guests dressed in Muggle clothes – the men were wearing suits and ties, and the woman a frilly peach-colored dress.

Finally, a collective murmur swept over the guests and everyone glanced backward, to the entrance, where Mr. Weasley and Ginny had just appeared. Small, balding Mr. Weasley was beaming with pride and happiness as he led his only daughter forward. They were of the same height. In the front row, Mrs. Weasley was sobbing quietly. Up front the two bridesmaids, Hermione and Luna, were dabbing at their eyes with small handkerchiefs.

Ginny was wearing a floating white dress, an airy confection of silk and lace. Part of her hair was put up and twirled around a wreath of miniature white roses. She was holding a small bouquet in her free hand, made of white roses too. After several minutes of slowly walking down the aisle – or it might have been an hour, or a week – she stopped next to Harry and looked up at him, beaming. He looked down at her, and it appeared that the world around had ceased to exist for the two of them.

The small wizard in white robes who stood in front of them started speaking of love, of faithfulness and loyalty, of the connection of souls, and the surroundings seemed to float around Severus, who looked at Ginny through a haze of time and pain and saw another red-haired woman, whom he had seen marrying another man with ruffled and untidy black hair – so long ago it was, over twenty years have passed. She had not invited him, of course, and for weeks he battled with himself, trying to convince himself that he cannot go, that he should not go, that it will be too painful, too pointless, too embarrassing – but an opportunity came up, one of their school friends couldn't go, and he had a stock of Polyjuice Potion, which was always his specialty – and he went to their wedding, and wept himself into oblivion as he saw Lily Evans in a white dress, standing arm in arm with James Potter, his enemy and rival, the one who ruined his years in Hogwarts, a school that could have been his first real home – the one who ruined his chance of conquering the heart of the woman he loved –

"I, Harry James Potter, take you, Ginevra Molly Weasley –"

"Severus, the rings!" The strained whisper of Remus Lupin behind him brought him back to his senses. Out of an inner pocket of his robes, he pulled a small box of dark red velvet, and opened it to reveal two simple gold rings, one slightly smaller than the other. Harry slipped a ring on Ginny's finger, and the small white-robed wizard proclaimed them husband and wife. Golden bells erupted out of the tip of his wand and floated through the air, ringing, around the entwined figures of Harry and Ginny Potter.

Once the ceremony was over and the chairs were re-assembled around a hundred of small, round tables, a band of three long-haired warlocks with guitars in their arms climbed onto a raised platform and started playing, and Harry and Ginny opened the dancing, followed by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ron and Hermione, and Luna and Neville.

"Severus does not take 'ees eyes off you," Fleur informed Celena in a giggly whisper. She still found the idea of their secret marriage highly amusing. Celena joined a table occupied by Bill, Fleur and Viktor Krum, while Severus sat with Professors McGonagall, Flitwick and Sprout. He was, of course, the one who insisted on this final touch of conspiracy, which was supposed to prove to anyone who might suspect that they have nothing in common. They have not exchanged a word since they entered the wedding, but from time to time Celena felt her husband's intense gaze upon her face, and it was like a warm caress.

"Vuld you like to dance, Celena, after this song is over?" asked Viktor, taking a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.

"Sure, why not," said Celena, accepting a plate with a slice of smoked salmon. She was about to take a bite, but suddenly wrinkled her noise and put it aside. The salmon did not smell as it usually did.

"Fleur, have you noticed something is wrong with this fish?" She asked. But her best friend was eating her portion of salmon with apparent enjoyment. Celena shrugged and helped herself to some potato salad instead. When a new song began, she and Viktor made to get up, but Bill pulled them back down to their chairs by the hem of their robes.

"What's up?" asked Celena.

"Stay in your seats for another moment, will you… I see Auntie Muriel is coming, don't want her to see an empty chair and come and join us…"

Sure enough, Celena spotted an old lady trotting along with surprising energy, a glass of champagne clutched in her vulture-like hand; she loudly said to a couple of red-haired Weasley cousins "move along now, boys, I'm a hundred and nine years old and ought to find a good seat!" Luckily for them, Muriel passed their table and went off to sit with Percy and Penelope instead.

A pretty girl with sleek and shiny black hair, who was wearing dress robes of bright turquoise, stopped by Celena. She was flushed in the face from champagne and dancing.

"Hello, Professor Costello – what a surprise to see you here! You look wonderful!"

"Hello, Melissa. It's lovely to see you – ah, and there's Mr. Nordholm too. And Mr. Creevey – hello, Dennis! Ginny invited all of you, I take it?"

Celena noticed that Melissa's freckles were nowhere to be seen, which hinted a generous application of Beauty Balm, a stock of which she created during a memorable Potions lesson of the previous year. She wasn't familiar with Bill and Fleur, but for a few moments her eyes flickered towards Viktor Krum, whom she obviously recognized from the sports column in the Daily Prophet or maybe from the Quidditch World Cup a few years ago. After a few friendly exchanges, Melissa, Martin and Dennis stalked off in the direction of the buffet, where Dennis continued to cast admiring glances at Celena, noticed by no one but Martin, who secretly rolled his eyes.

"Who vos that?" asked Krum, eyeing Melissa with lively interest.

"Melissa Hanson, she's a student at Hogwarts, I used to teach her last year."

"I have alvays vondered" said Krum, "how come girls are so pretty at Hogwarts."

Shortly after that, Viktor Krum got up and took Celena to the dance floor; she didn't return to her seat for some time – after the song she and Viktor danced to had ended, she danced with Bill, Charlie and Uncle Remus, and later spun exuberantly on the dance floor with Fred, and even bestowed a dance upon the delighted Dennis Creevey – she figured she could allow him this little frivolity, given that she wasn't his teacher anymore. And all the while, she kept glancing towards the man with whom she would have wanted to dance the most of all – he was still sitting at the teachers' table, not talking much and only drinking from his goblet from time to time.

When she stepped off the dance floor, flushed and breathless, Celena noticed that her table had emptied. Bill and Fleur were dancing, and at some distance she saw Viktor Krum talking animatedly to Melissa Hanson, who was listening with rapt attention. Smiling slightly to herself, Celena decided to let go of excessive caution and made her way to sit next to her husband with the other teachers. He only gave her a fleeting, sideways glance, but unnoticed by any of the guests in the tumult of the wedding party, they leaned closer to one another.

"You did brilliantly, Severus," she told him out of the corner of her mouth.

"It was one of the strangest moments of my entire life," he admitted, and then said unexpectedly, "did you notice Creevey doesn't stop staring at you?"

"Creevey?" Celena looked at him, surprised. "You mean Dennis? What do you –"

"I have always thought he was rather more interested in you than in Potions when he applied for N.E.W.T level last year," said Snape.

"Severus, I really don't think that's likely –"

They were interrupted by a beaming Remus Lupin, who was holding a glass of champagne.

"Having fun, Severus, Celena? I don't remember ever enjoying a wedding more – including my own even – Harry and Ginny married, what a day!"

"I think I will take a walk," said Snape, getting up. Celena frowned as she saw him make his way between the tables and out of the entrance, his dark figure prominent in the soft autumn sunlight.

On and on he walked into the field. Its quietness and cool wind were soothing on his nerves after the raucous laughter, music and toasts of the wedding party. His heart still throbbed with the ache of old losses. Like the school boy he once was, he sat under a large beech tree and gazed at the faint line of the distant hills.

And then – was it Ginny he saw advancing towards him, through the blur of tears that obscured his vision? But no – this woman, though she wore a long white dress, had red hair that was at least a few shades darker than Ginny's. She was also taller than Ginny, and a faint glow was emitting from her translucent figure. She did not rustle the dying grass as she walked – no, floated, glided towards him - and her eyes, her painfully familiar, long-loved eyes, when he looked into them, were emerald green.

He could not move, he could not say a word, afraid to break the enchantment, afraid that she would be gone the moment he tilted his head. After all those years, he looked at the one he longed to see, the one who haunted him so many sleepless nights, and he felt that even if he had all eternity to look at her, it would not be enough.

"Severus," she said in a voice that was warm and soft and alive, and the sound of his name from her lips was like balm to his soul, "you have done wonderfully."

"You… Lily, is it really you?"

His voice was hoarse, barely audible. He wondered if she even heard him.

"I don't have much time, Severus, but I had to come and thank you. Thank you for Harry. Thank you for watching out for him and keeping him alive and safe. You were so brave."

Glittering tears were sliding down her translucent cheeks, clinging to her long, transparent eyelashes. Yet she was also smiling at him, grief and joy intermingling in her gaze. He had to swallow several times before he could speak.

"For such a long time, I wished I were dead," he finally said, "I wished I could go beyond, where it is peaceful and painless and where I could see you and talk to you – explain –"

"But you don't have to die for that," she said softly, with a slight smile on her lips, "everything is forgiven now, Severus."

"Forgiven, Lily? Have you truly forgiven me, then? For all my – for what I've –"

"How could I not, my friend? After everything you have done for my son – all you have suffered –"

"What I did… you were right all along. You tried to warn me for years. It was a terrible mistake, and I regretted it, you don't know how much, and I tried to make amends, but it wasn't enough, not nearly enough. By the time I came to my senses, you were dead."

Tears were dripping down the end of Snape's long nose. When Lily spoke again, her voice was exceedingly gentle.

"You are not alone anymore, Severus. You have a wife who looks up to you and needs you. Who admires and loves you."

"I'm afraid I will fail to protect her, as I had failed to protect you…"

"I have faith in you, Severus. You have been brave in battle. Now it's a different kind of courage you need, and I know you will find it. I know you won't be afraid to love. To hope and trust."

In a gesture of forgiveness, of letting go, her ghostly hand brushed across his brow, and the touch of her was like cool, soothing water – the pain of seeing her and talking to her gnawed at his insides, but it was the burning of a wound which was not fatal anymore. He closed his eyes for a second and then she was gone, and only the faintest trace of lavender scent lingered in the air.

He staggered up to his feet and slowly started walking, like a blind man, not knowing where he goes. He was still shaking with grief, but his heart was healing with every step he took, as an immense burden of guilt, shame and remorse lifted off his shoulders.

Late at night, in the darkness and privacy of his and Celena's bedroom, his body shook with the force of heaving sobs, and his wife, worried, but with a hint of understanding, put her arms around his shoulders and spoke to him as gently as the ghost of a woman to whose son he had pledged his life.

"Severus? Is everything alright?"

"Yes, yes," he gasped, uncontrolled tears pouring down from his eyes, "everything is fine. Everything is alright now. Finally… finally…"

"Tell me," she whispered, "tell me, my love. Whatever burden you carry, it is time to finally let me share it."

Celena cupped his wet cheek, and rested his head on her shoulder, and pressed her lips to his cold and shaking hands until they were warm again. He started telling her what had happened that afternoon, and his speech was barely coherent but she understood.

Severus Snape had been lonely for many long years; he was hardened by many dark secrets, his role of double agent and his all-encompassing feeling of guilt for the death of the woman he had loved. The last time he had openly displayed an emotional upheaval was in Dumbledore's office, during their conversation following Lily's death. After that, for many years, it seemed he was made of stone, silky smooth and hard, unbeatable, impenetrable, beyond the understanding of regular people. He would never let anyone penetrate the inner depths of his mind and soul again. It was the only way to ensure he would never be hurt.

This resolution held on until he met Celena.

And now, to his horror, it seemed as though he was going to melt down because of her soft hands that were caressing his cheeks and tracing his scars. It had been too much, he knew now. All they had to go through. He only felt the full impact of it now. He opened his mouth to say something else to her, but grief of the past overcame him and he took several deep breaths. There was a physical pain in his chest, like a long sharp needle stuck right through his heart.

Holding Celena close to him projected a pain that was akin to the pain of frozen limbs when they are warmed and blood starts circulating in them again. It felt like daggers.

"I told you, you are doing yourself an injustice by taking a broken man for your husband," he said in a choked voice, "but heaven knows it's too late now. You are mine. I love you and I will cling to you until my last breath."

She hushed him, softly kissing him and tasting the blood on his lips where he bit himself in his agony. She felt as though her heart could burst, and she pressed herself close to him and held his hand and sobbed with love and pain. But now she also felt assured of healing, something she couldn't help but doubt, to her distress, from the beginning of their marriage.

Slowly, he drifted off to sleep in her arms, and morning found them fast asleep, holding on to each other in a pool of dappled sunlight.


	12. Back in her good books

In the week after Harry and Ginny's wedding, it seemed to Celena as though Severus was recuperating from a severe illness. The silent intensity of his feelings was such that she often found herself lapsing into thoughts about his past and how much of it still lingered in their life. She didn't delude herself – she knew about the strength of his love for Lily Potter, about his lifelong devotion to her memory – those were the things that attracted her to him in the first place, stirred her admiration and ultimately caused her to fall in love with him. She was fully aware, however, that it was also what might cause him to be nearly unable to truly move on.

She did not question him, but rather, offered acceptance and affection, and most of their evenings that week were spent entwined in each other's arms.

"Let's stop hiding," she pleaded with him, "it's ridiculous, you are my husband, why should we feel as though we are sneaking? I want to stroll down the High Street in Hogsmeade with you, holding your hand, I want to go for a drink in the Three Broomsticks with you – to welcome you at the door when you come home –"

"We must wait," Snape said wearily, "perhaps once I'm back in Bellatrix's good books – but for now, it is just too dangerous. She is determined to get revenge at me, I know that. What could be easier than getting to me through you?"

"A lot of things," retorted Celena, "In case you forgot, Severus, I am a full-trained witch and I am perfectly capable –"

An owl tapped on the window of their living room. In several quick strides, Snape was over by the window, untying a tightly furled scroll of parchment from the owl's leg. He unrolled it and quickly scanned it, his black eyes running back and forth along the lines.

"Excellent," he said, "this is from Narcissa. Bellatrix had agreed to grant me an audience. Tonight at Malfoy Manor."

He looked triumphant, Celena apprehensive.

"Oh, Severus – I know you have to do it, you won't rest until you have – but please be careful!"

He met her concerned stare with a look of grim satisfaction.

"Don't worry," he said, "Bella prides herself for her cunning, but as I have studied her character, this pride is not quite justified."

It was dusk, and a tall figure in billowing black robes was walking among the shadowy lanes of Malfoy Manor's park. A slim, anxious-looking blonde woman came forward to meet him, draped in a long cloak and carrying a lamp.

"Come, Severus," she said, in a rather frightened voice. "She is already waiting for you."

He followed Narcissa's footsteps, and when he entered the handsome sitting room, Bellatrix jumped up and hissed like an angry cat. There was rather a lot of grey in her dark hair now, and like Snape, she was dressed in black from head to toe.

"Bellatrix," Snape inclined his head. "I appreciate your taking the time to come."

"Snape," she snarled, "what do you want? I only came because my sister begged – told me you will pull some strings to get Lucius out of Azkaban – though I told her she is foolish to believe a single word you say –"

"Severus once promised to watch over Draco, and keep him safe, Bella," quietly said Narcissa Malfoy, who walked in after Snape, "and he did that. Draco is alive and well, and that is only thanks to Severus's protection."

Bellatrix glared at her sister. Snape seized on the opportunity and approached Bellatrix in a few careful strides.

"Listen to your sister, Bellatrix. Remember that I was the one to eventually get rid of Albus Dumbledore."

Bellatrix gave a mirthless cackle.

"Sure, Snape, you killed Dumbledore, but only because you were bound by the Unbreakable Vow. Draco was obviously going to fail in the mission given to him by the Dark Lord, so you were forced to carry it out instead of him to save your miserable life."

"Bellatrix, listen to me."

"Why should I?" She snapped. "Are you going to come up with some clever story again? Explain away why you walked out on the Dark Lord in his most crucial hour, why you didn't participate in the final battle, why you returned to Hogwarts to comfortably continue teaching while the rest of us were rounded off to Azkaban or else scattered into hiding? Because if that is why you are here, Snape, you are wasting your time."

"Clever story?" Snape raised an eyebrow. "I certainly came here tonight so you would hear me out. But there are no clever stories, Bellatrix. Just solid, undeniable fact."

Bellatrix looked mutinous but didn't say a word.

"You know perfectly well why I did not participate in the final battle," he said quietly, "I could hardly do that when I was on the verge of death, having lost half my blood after Nagini bit into my neck."

"Which she did on the Dark Lord's bidding, no doubt!" retorted Bellatrix, "And certainly he had a good reason to want to dispose of you, Snape!"

Bellatrix was furious, but Snape kept calm, which gave him an advantage over her.

"The Dark Lord wanted to take my life, that is true," said Snape, "but not because he thought I was treacherous, not because he had the slightest doubt in my loyalty. He regretfully chose to sacrifice me because he thought it would give him true power over the Elder Wand."

Bellatrix said nothing. Narcissa looked at Snape transfixed, listening in to every word.

"The Dark Lord was gravely mistaken. Yes, Bellatrix, it was one of the only times he had miscalculated, and that mistake was fatal. If only he had allowed me to explain the magic of the Elder Wand as I had understood it, he would have known killing me would not help him overpower the Wand. But he hadn't allowed me to speak, and ordered Nagini to strike, thus bringing down his faithful servant and losing my assistance in the final battle. I was lying there with the rest of the injured, barely conscious, while we were losing second by second – and when I rose, it was too late."

"You managed to somehow worm your way out of it, though, Snape, didn't you?" Bellatrix's eyes narrowed maliciously, "because you weren't imprisoned and even returned to teach at Hogwarts. I hear you came up with some cock-and-bull story that got you back in the Order's good books. Now, I would dearly love to know –"

"You know I am a rather good Occlumens, Bellatrix," Snape said calmly, "but I have been looking for you all that time, ever since I found out the truth. I know you have suffered from the Dark Lord's downfall more than any of us, Bellatrix, and I came to offer my condolences. I know now whose son you have been raising all these years."

At his last words she froze, dumbstruck, and licked her dry lips. Her words came out in a hoarse whisper.

"How – how do you..?"

"How I know can be explained later," Snape said firmly, "I have known for a long time that you had been more than the Dark Lord's servant, Bellatrix – though even just serving him was a honor like none other –"

"Yes," she said quietly, "yes. He honored me beyond any other woman. He bestowed his grace on me by summoning me to share his bed. We were both so honored – Rodolphus and I – Rodolphus had always said there can be no greater pleasure than giving everything over to the Dark Lord, everything, including one's wife."

"I came to pledge allegiance, Bellatrix," said Snape. "To you and to your son. To his son."

In a second, she was her old self again.

"And you think we will have you just like that, Snape?"

"Try me, then," he said calmly, "allow me to prove you can trust me. What is it that you will have of me, Bellatrix?"

She thought for a moment, then spoke.

"Let's assume for a moment what you said is truth, Snape. If you truly want to ally yourself with us, get rid of Kingsley Shacklebolt. He brought two others too close to our hiding place not long ago. I want him out of the way."

Snape inclined his head ever so slightly.

"Very well," he said.

"…Oh, very clever," said Kingsley, laughing. He looked genuinely amused. "You promised Bellatrix Lestrange to get rid of me."

"Yes," said Snape. "You have to die, and it has to leak out and be published that I was arrested for interrogation. It is the only way to make Bellatrix trust me."

"Do you want me to hand over my wand and shoot out of the window right now?" asked Kingsley.

"Enough jokes," Snape cut across him, "make arrangements at the Ministry. Get an order for the Daily Prophet to publish an article about you dying under mysterious circumstances. Then go into hiding."

"Into hiding – Snape, think what you are saying. I cannot just – just fly off to a vacation in Provence or something at a time like this. I need to be here. The Order needs me."

"The Order needs you, not your physical form," said Snape, thrusting a large flask into Kingsley's hands, "this is Polyjuice Potion. I trust that you are intelligent enough to assume a variety of disguises."

Kingsley took the flask and looked at it thoughtfully.

"You know, Snape," he said, "this is promising to be interesting."


	13. Confessions

Following the plan proved to be more difficult than they had foreseen, given how Kingsley was too important both to the Order and the Ministry to really go into hiding. On the other hand, the entire Ministry couldn't be let in on the plan, and even certain members of the Order, such as the not wholly trustworthy Mundungus Fletcher, did not know about it.

In the end, Kingsley was concealed as a junior Ministry worker, which granted him unsuspected entrance in and out of the Ministry. That worker, in the meantime, had appeared (again, with the help of a generous amount of Polyjuice Potion) as someone entirely new – under the disguise of a Muggle man from London who was known by no one and wouldn't arouse suspicion.

It was only a couple of days before Halloween when some of the Order members were gathered in Professor McGonagall's study at Hogwarts. They were perusing a fresh copy of the "Daily Prophet", one of the many newly churned out of the printing press, bearing a sensational notice in great letters that covered nearly the entire front page:

_**Sudden Death at the Ministry of Magic – Suspected Murder**_

_Kingsley Shacklebolt, a high-rank Ministry official, who had been for a period temporary Minister of Magic, was found dead in his office last night after staying at work until late hours. His body was discovered by a security wizard who had detected suspicious noises on his Supersecrecy Sensor and rushed to the place, only to find the lifeless body of Shacklebolt and no sign of anybody else in the area._

_A group of Ministry Aurors were urgently assigned to investigate the death of Shacklebolt, whose body bore unmistakable signs of magical damage. After thoroughly searching the entire floor, Auror M., whose full name cannot be revealed because of security reasons, immediately set off, to return hours later with a suspect who was arrested for interrogation. _

_Details of this shocking affair are currently being withheld, but our special correspondent has revealed that…_

Minerva McGonagall folded the newspaper and set it aside. The story continued on pages 2, 4 and 7, but of course, she already knew everything that the special correspondent of the _Daily Prophet_ might have unearthed.

"So, Kingsley," she said, "when is your funeral?"

"Later today," he said, "and I tell you, the most difficult part was displaying the body in a convincing way. At first we thought we'd just say that the body was so mangled I have to be buried in a closed coffin, but it would have been suspicious – it's Snape after all who is supposed to be involved, not Fenrir Greyback. So we got hold of the body of a London bum and Snape did a very clever trick with Polyjuice Potion, so that it would work on dead people as well, and now we are going to have a very convincing display. The entire Ministry is going to be there, including Collins – I mean me, obviously, under the disguise of Collins. And I tell you, it sure feels strange, going to my own funeral and hearing laments and speeches said over my dead body…"

"Excellent," said McGonagall, "now, Severus, remember that you have to lie low at home at least for a few days, because supposedly you are held up at the Ministry for interrogation. We will need someone to take your classes."

"I guess Luna will have to take care of things in the shop on her own again, then," Celena said brightly, "unless you can think of another substitute, Minerva? It will be great to teach for a few days again, I think I will do something fun with the students…"

She gave her husband a wink, and he returned a scowl. He knew how much she enjoyed taunting him.

Celena loved walking the corridors again, with a name list and a teacher's journal in her hands. She didn't think she would like to return to teaching full-time now that she and Severus were married – her shop, which was less time-consuming and more compatible with family life, seemed much more fitting to her now. But being back at Hogwarts felt incredible. She loved sitting at the staff table and checking essays, and she was very happy to meet her students from the previous year, who were all delighted to see her and many of whom erupted in cheers when she entered the classroom and announced that Professor Snape is not feeling well and would have to take a few days off. She was torn between amusement and feeling slightly offended for her husband when she saw students practically dancing with joy at the prospect of a few Professor Snape-free days.

However, on her second day at Hogwarts she had an encounter which made her glad she would only have to stay another day or two.

She had finished with her classes for the day and was sitting in her old office, where a desk had been hastily dusted and cleared of old files to make working room for her. She was making a lesson plan for the fifth-years Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs for the next day when there was a knock on her office door, and after her surprised acknowledgement, Dennis Creevey came in, looking pale but determined.

"Hello, Dennis," Celena said brightly, "what can I do for you? I just checked the seventh-year essays, by the way, and I can secretly tell you yours was really good, I'm sure even Professor Snape would agree –"

But Dennis walked around her desk and was now standing very close to her, and within moments, he had got hold of both her hands and was talking feverishly, a mad gleam in his eye, telling her everything – how he had fallen in love with her the moment he had seen her, how he took Potions last year only to have an excuse to talk to her, how he did all the extra research and lessons and projects just to impress her, how she was the most beautiful and wonderful woman in the world and how he had patiently waited for an opportunity to pledge his unyielding devotion –

Celena listened, dumbstruck, and felt as though curtain after curtain was being lifted off her eyes, explaining all the strangeness of Dennis's behavior, which she so blatantly refused to acknowledge, even when Severus had tried to confront her with it. Dennis was advancing on her, his face now very close to hers, his expression pleading.

"Professor Costello – Celena – I hope you forgive me for cornering you like that, but I had to say it, I couldn't contain it any longer – I had to let you know how much I admire – how I've always – please say something. Can I at least hope?.."

"Dennis," Celena finally managed to say, breathing deeply and trying to regain composure, "you must understand that this is utterly, absolutely inappropriate –"

"But why? You are not my teacher anymore – not really – and I am of age now, and I know I can get a really good job soon, when I've graduated – I could give you a good life, I know I could –"

Celena sighed. She felt sorry for this good-looking boy who had opened up his heart to her so bravely. Instead of acting shocked, she decided to tell him at least part of the truth.

"There is someone else in my life, Dennis," she said. To her surprise, Dennis pressed on, entirely unabashed.

"Who? Timothy Whitechapple? I know you used to be engaged, but he is married to someone else now, and I know for a fact you haven't been seeing anyone else –"

Celena was inwardly glad for this confirmation of how effective her and Severus's precautions had been.

"You are only saying this to dissuade me," said Dennis desperately, "I know you are! What is it about, then, tell me? That you are older than me? But that is nothing, what's five or six years when we are talking about –"

"Dennis," Celena firmly cut across him, "please listen to me. I have great respect for you and I am not just trying to talk my way out of this. Age has nothing to do with it. There _is_ someone else, someone – someone I'm deeply involved with – and he is about as many years older than me as the number of years you have on this earth."

Dennis opened his mouth, then closed it again.

"I think it is better if you leave now," Celena said gently but firmly.

"…I must confess I don't understand why you should even be surprised," Severus said smugly when she had told him about the incident, "to me, it was pretty obvious what the boy was after from the first time I had seen him in your Potions class. Be reasonable, Celena, how typical do you think it is for someone like Dennis Creevey to spend his evenings writing essays twice as long as he was requested to hand in, or locked up with his teacher taking remedial Potions, instead of playing Quidditch? Especially Potions – you thought I was exaggerating, didn't you, when I told you the boy was always dreadful in my classes?" 

"Well," said Celena, coming to her senses, "at least one good thing came out of this ridiculous business – Dennis had unearthed a hidden talent."

Their conversation was interrupted by an urgent knock at the door. They exchanged glances. Who could come calling at this hour?

Stepping softly, soundlessly, Severus Snape took a few swift strides towards the door, peering through the eyehole. When he looked back at Celena, his expression was hesitant, calculating.

"Who is it?" whispered Celena. "Should I open?"

"You'd better go upstairs," he told her quietly.

"No way," she whispered, "I want to know what is going on."

She hurried off from the sitting room to the tiny office next to it and opened the door a crack.

"Professor Snape!" She heard a male's voice, muffled by the door and the pounding of heavy rain, "I know you are in there. Please open up."

Resignedly, Snape opened the door to reveal the sodden silhouette of a tall, pale young man. Water was running down from his sleek silvery blond hair, which was plastered to his face, down his hollow cheeks and his dark, high-collared long robes.

"Draco," said Snape, suspiciously eyeing the youngest of the Malfoys, "this is – how - ?"

"Quite unexpected, I know – I need to speak with you, it's urgent –"

"Come in," finally said Snape, closing the door behind him, "it's unwise for you to be seen here, you should have concealed yourself better. Now let us be honest, Draco. How did you know I'm here?"

"I was sent to find you," he said breathlessly. He hesitated, as though there were more words tottering on his tongue, but he didn't dare to say them.

"By your aunt Bellatrix, no doubt," supplied Snape. "Who, of course, wanted to know whether I am really held by the Ministry, interrogated for the murder of Kingsley Shacklebolt. Obviously some of my precautions were insufficient, because now you know I am really not at the Ministry. The question, Draco, is what you are going to do. I suspect you won't just turn around and tell Bellatrix you found me in Hogsmeade, because if you had intended to do that, you could have done so without alerting me to your presence."

"I – I am not my aunt's puppet!" Draco Malfoy's steely grey eyes flashed dangerously, "and I know you aren't either. Aunt Bellatrix is suspicious, but I – I _know_ you aren't really working with her. And neither am I," he hastened to add, "she asked me for this favor and I agreed because it gave me an excuse to go and look for you, but I would have done so anyway."

"Why?" asked Snape. "What is it that you want of me, Draco?"

"To speak about my father," said Malfoy.

Snape looked at the young man with a hint of curiosity. There he was, the boy who had formerly been his favorite student at Hogwarts, who had shown so little strength in the first and last mission given to him by Lord Voldemort, and even less in the final battle at Hogwarts over a year ago. To his credit, Draco Malfoy did not live up to the sinister purpose of the Dark Mark which was now an everlasting blemish upon the pale skin of his forearm, but he did not move a finger to fight against Voldemort's supporters either, and his parents were still firmly allied with the old gang of Death Eaters.

"Lucius?" asked Snape, "What about him?"

"Are you really going to help my father get out of Azkaban?"

Snape gave Draco a long, curious, calculating look.

"That," he said softly, "is the plan."

"Professor Snape," said Draco, "we both have something in common now."

Snape raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"You mean apart from being loyal to the house of Slytherin and branded with the Dark Mark?"

"Yes," Draco said firmly, "I mean that we both now owe our lives to Harry Potter."

Snape looked at the boy in front of him even more steadfastly. His face was gaunt and hollow, much like it had been in his sixth year, as he was trying and failing to complete the mission weighing heavily upon his shoulders. But there was a grain of maturity etched now in the fine features of his pale face, and he looked less self-satisfied. He had grown taller over the year Snape hadn't seen him, and his shoulders have broadened. Unnoticeably, as it always happens, Draco Malfoy had crossed the verge between boyhood and manhood.

"I expect you are brimming with gratitude, Draco," Snape said drily, "but what does the release of your father from Azkaban have to do with Harry Potter?"

"My father is not… quite what he used to be," said Draco Malfoy, "he used to have confident intelligence and cool logic, and I'm afraid those got unhinged following his imprisonment in Azkaban. And he feels the most venomous hatred towards Harry Potter and those who helped him defeat the Dark Lord. I reckon he still thinks that by getting rid of Potter, he can get his old grandeur back. And while I have no particular liking for Harry Potter, some debts need to be paid –"

"Harry Potter is under excellent protection," said Snape, "and so are his friends. The Weasley house has been granted every possible security measure."

"Granger still lives with her parents, though," interjected Draco, "and they are Muggles, so the Ministry does not pay them much thought. And I must tell you that my father hates the Granger girl even more than the Weasleys, whom he considers the worst kind of blood traitors. My father might try to get to Harry Potter through her."

Snape felt an urge to laugh, which did not happen often.

"Oh, Draco, Draco," he said, smiling with one side of his thin mouth, "you were never good at subtlety. You come and visit me at this hour, put on this air of urgency – all for the protection of a M-"

"Don't you dare!" Malfoy flared up.

"… A common Muggle-born girl," Snape finished calmly, as though he hadn't been interrupted, "by the name of Hermione Granger, whom you used to taunt throughout all the years you spent together in school. Confess it, Draco; it's her safety that concerns you, not Harry Potter's, not even your own, as much as you will hate to admit it."

Draco Malfoy's hands curled into fists.

"Stop it," he whispered. "It's none of your business to dig into my private… why should you even care…"

"Oh, I bet Lucius and Narcissa would love that," continued Snape, apparently enjoying the moment, even though his eyes were scanning Draco Malfoy with an appraising, calculating look, "their only son, heir to Malfoy Manor, carefully bred Draco Malfoy, whose veins aren't tainted with a single drop of common blood – pining away after Hermione Granger."

"If I were you," said Draco Malfoy, with the air of pulling a card he had until now withheld, "I would worry less about what my parents might think about me, and more about the heartfelt congratulations my Aunt Bellatrix will give you when she finds out you got married."

Snape was silent, dumbstruck.

"I expect this is where you and your wife live, isn't it, Professor Snape? It looks too cozy for a bachelor house…"

Snape's eyes momentarily darted towards the office door, which opened at that instant, and Celena drifted graciously into the room, a slight smile playing on her lips.

"No point in hiding now that we know we have been discovered, Severus, is there?" She said in response to her husband's furious glance, sizing up Draco Malfoy. She has never met him before. He inclined his sleek blond head toward her, impressed. With her willowy figure, luxurious, shiny hair and dazzling smile, wearing perfectly tailored robes, she was the very picture of loveliness.

"I should offer you my congratulations, Professor," he said, "and you, Mrs. Snape. No need to explain why you wanted to keep this a secret, at least for a while."

"I would not have thought of giving you explanations about whatever I may have decided to do," Snape retorted icily, "what will you tell your aunt Bellatrix?"

"Nothing but that you are, apparently, held up at the Ministry, because you are nowhere to be found," said Malfoy, "but don't hold on to the illusion that you will be able to keep your marriage hushed up for long, Professor. Someone is bound to find out, and Aunt Bellatrix will hear about it sooner or later. And the longer you hide it, the more suspicious it will get when it's revealed."

Snape's cold black eyes bore into the steely grey ones of Draco Malfoy.

"You know what, Draco," he said slowly, contemplatively, "you might have learned something after all."

"Will you, or will you not, keep an eye on my father if he gets out of Azkaban?" demanded Malfoy.

"Oh, I will not let Lucius to run amok unattended," Snape said smoothly, "you can put your mind at rest about that."

Draco Malfoy nodded, satisfied.

"That is just what I hoped to hear, Professor Snape," he said.

And without another word, he turned on his heel, wrenched the door open, and disappeared into the rain.

There was a long silence between Severus and Celena, who looked at each other, thinking exactly the same thing, but when Celena broke it, she spoke of something different.

"Hermione Granger – she is engaged to Ron Weasley, isn't she? Or at least, I know he plans to propose to her –"

"I estimate they will be married by the end of next summer," said Snape, "frankly, I believe there is a better chance for Cornelius Fudge to become Minister of Magic again, than for Draco Malfoy to get so much as a contempt-free glance from Hermione Granger."

"Of course, Hermione and Ron are destined for each other, they will make such a sweet couple, I remember at Harry and Ginny's wedding…" Celena started, but her husband interrupted her.

"The boy was right about one thing, though," he said, looking grave, "if he found out about us, someone else is bound to do that too. I thought the precautions we took were enough – but apparently I was wrong."

"Well," Celena said, contemplating every word, "perhaps it's all for the best. You see, Severus, I don't think we will be able to keep hiding this for too long anyway."

"What do you mean?" he asked suspiciously.

She smiled sweetly, and a slight blush crept over her face as she replied:

"We are going to have a baby."


	14. Joys

For a few seconds, Snape stared at her blankly, until the reality of what she said started to sink in.

"A – a baby?" He repeated blankly, "Do you mean to say that you are…"

"Pregnant, yes," Celena nodded, a wide smile splitting her face, "I can't be very far along, I think it happened about a month ago. I didn't know for sure until this morning, and I've meant to tell you all day but just couldn't find the right moment… aren't – aren't you happy, Severus?" She asked hesitantly, looking at the somber expression of his face. It softened as he took her hand and kissed it.

"Of course – of course I'm happy. How could I not be? It's incredible, Celena. But the question is, what are we going to do?"

"Do?" Celena repeated, frowning. "What do you mean, what are we going to _do_?"

"Perhaps, if you move back in with your parents for a while when it becomes obvious that you are…" he started, but trailed off, seeing the mutinous expression of her face.

"No," she said firmly. "I will _not_ pretend I'm going to have a baby out of wedlock. Even if we tell the truth later, gossip dies hard and I will never be able to live this down. I'm telling you, Severus, it's better for us to just move into the open."

"Perhaps…" he said slowly, "perhaps you are right. I will have to think about how to protect you once the secrecy is lifted. But for now, Celena, please don't tell about the pregnancy to anyone, not even your parents."

Hopeful and encouraged, Celena assured him she would not tell until both of them will decide it is the right time to do so, but her resolution to keep a secret was put to a positively impassable test when Fleur knocked on her door that weekend, looking simply radiant. When Severus, after a brief greeting and a few clumsy attempts of conversation, shuffled away to his study, and Celena and Fleur retreated to the cozy kitchen for a steamy mug of hot tea and some homemade cauldron cakes, Fleur took hold of Celena's hand and looked straight into her eyes. Celena waited curiously. She had rarely seen her friend so excited.

"Celena," said Fleur, "you won't believe zis – Bill and I 'aven't got around to telling people yet, we only just told 'is family – we are expecting a baby!"

"No way!" Celena gave a delighted squeal, "you too?"

"Oh, Celena, 'ow wonderful! Imagine, eef we both 'ave girls, and zey become best friends just like us! I expect zey will go to school togezzer, like we did – ah, eet will be seemply delightful!"

There was a pause of about five minutes when the two friends hugged each other, bouncing up and down like giddy schoolgirls.

"We shouldn't be jumping like that, you know, Fleur," Celena said in a tone of mock seriousness, finally sitting back down, "we are _pregnant women_ now… ought to take care of ourselves…"

Fleur suppressed one final giggle and sat down, too.

"So, when are you and Severus going to come out weez your belated wedding announcement?" She asked, "Eet doesn't look as though you will be able to 'old the secret back much longer, and eet will be quite ridiculous eef you tell when you already can't fit into your dress robes, Celena."

"I know," Celena frowned, "I've been thinking that, too. But Severus is not quite convinced yet, and he asked me not to tell anyone we are expecting a baby, so please don't make him understand I let it slip."

The big news were a cause for celebration, and after bidding Severus a quick goodbye – Fleur did her best to keep a straight face and act as though she hadn't just issued, and heard, the most exciting announcement – Celena and Fleur went out of the house and into the streets of Hogsmeade, which were covered with puddles after that week's rains. They made their way to Gladrags Wizardwear, where they purchased a hat and a pair of gloves apiece. Later, they found themselves a small table in the Three Broomsticks and ordered two Gillywaters.

"I would love to celebrate with some champagne," whispered Fleur, leaning closer to Celena, "but in our condition, I am not sure we ought to 'ave any."

"Oh, please be quiet, Fleur," moaned Celena, but despite herself, she smiled. For a few minutes, they sipped their drinks in dignified silence, and then Celena told:

"Viktor has been coming by our house lately, you know," she paused, "we had him over for dinner last night - he has put Severus in contact with – with the _right people_ in Bulgaria. And it looks like he is going to stay in Britain for a while – he has signed a contract with Puddlemere United."

Even though they were talking in low voices, unheard over the loud noise of the bar, she didn't dare to speak more plainly.

"Ah," said Fleur, smiling for some reason, "Viktor 'as certainly been busy."

She gestured towards a table in a distant corner, and sure enough, Celena noticed the dark hair and beaky nose of Viktor Krum, who was leaning across the table, clearly engrossed in conversation with a very pretty girl in a shocking pink sweater, whose dark hair was rippling down her back. Evidently, she didn't use the Beauty Balm this time, as her freckles were clearly visible, but they didn't make her look any less pretty – if anything, her freckles only enhanced the pale fineness of her face.

"Right," smirked Celena, "I forgot this is a Hogsmeade weekend."

"Oh?" Fleur's eyebrows formed graceful arches above her eyes, "do you mean to tell me zis is a student from ze school?"

"Yes," said Celena, "this is Melissa Hanson, she was in my classes last year. But at least I think she must be of age, she is in her seventh year already. Isn't it so typical for Viktor? he will never miss the chance to hit on a good-looking girl, even when something very serious is going on…"

"She is quite pretty," Fleur nodded appreciatively, "Vikor 'as always 'ad a good taste – I once expected 'e would ask me out, you know, in our Triwizard year, but 'e never did, and of course I was ever so grateful for zat later, because I soon met Bill, and well, you know…"

Fleur and Celena continued chattering away, and neither of them noticed the two boys that opened the bar's door, only to turn on their heel and leave as quickly and quietly as they could.

"Alright, alright, let's go someplace else," Martin said grouchily, as Dennis dragged him along the street to the shelter of the crowded Honeydukes sweetshop, "I understand you don't want to see Professor Costello, after you made such a fool of yourself – which was, of course, predictable, I really don't know what got into your head, you couldn't have expected anything different…"

He trailed off, seeing that Dennis wasn't really listening, misery still etched in every line of his face.

"Oh, alright, let's just drop it," he said with a sigh, "listen, Dennis, I don't expect you had eyes for anything but Professor Costello, but I've seen something very interesting."

"What?" asked Dennis, with a feeble imitation of curiosity.

"Mel," said Martin.

"Melissa?" Dennis raised an eyebrow. "Well, she might be sitting in The Three Broomsticks on a Hogsmeade weekend any old time, what's so interesting about that?"

Martin gave him an enigmatic smile.

"But guess who she was sitting with? _Viktor Krum!_"

Dennis stared at him blankly. Despite his mortification, he was curious.

"Viktor Krum? _The_ Viktor Krum?"

"Yes, yes, Viktor Krum, famous international Quidditch player, the most recent acquisition of Puddlemere United, Bulgaria's hope for the next World Cup and all that," nodded Martin, "Melissa told me they got quite friendly at Ginny Weasley's wedding, but I thought she was exaggerating. It appears she told the truth, though. They were sitting _very _cozily together, I wish we could have stayed to get a better look –"

"No way," Dennis said firmly, "I'm not going back there."

"Suit yourself," Martin shook his head, "but you know, Dennis, if you hadn't been so stupid, you could have been sitting there with Melissa right now."

Dennis gave him another blank stare.

"With Mel? What d'you…"

"Are you an idiot or what?" snapped Martin, "Mel is one of the prettiest girls in the year now, and she has had a crush on you for ages – and she had to see you wasting your time pining for Professor Costello. If I were you, I would have seized the opportunity to get it going with Mel, but of course now it's too late – you could never compete with Viktor Krum, mate."

Dennis shrugged indifferently. He was hurt too deeply to appreciate the healthy logic of Martin's words, but now he did notice how much Melissa Hanson has changed compared to the eleven-year-old girl he first met on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.


	15. The fortress

At Malfoy Manor, Severus Snape was welcomed by a gaunt-looking man with a pale face, eyes and hair, who smiled triumphantly despite looking like the shadow of his former self.

"Severus," he said, "I'm in your debt. I think another month in Azkaban might have finished me off. You have done me a great favor."

"Not at all, Lucius, not at all," Snape replied lazily, walking into the handsome sitting room. "I simply had to smoothly operate some of my contacts. This was just what I told Draco when he came by to visit me – your release was one of his primary concerns."

Snape exchanged a fleeting glance with the pale, blond young man standing behind his father. Draco Malfoy shot him a look of grim understanding, while Narcissa looked at him appreciatively.

Bellatrix came striding out of the adjacent room, flushed with excitement.

"Well done, Snape!" She said, "I must say I was rather impressed at how smoothly you handled Shacklebolt. I confess I thought it would be next to impossible to get rid of him. With him gone, we can feel much more secure. Are you still on the suspects list?"

Snape inclined his head in a small, ironic bow.

"I think so, but the Aurors will never prove I had anything to do with it. No matter. Now you see what a valuable ally I can make, Bellatrix," he said, "or do I need to do anything else to convince you of the sincerity of my wish to join forces with you?"

For several tension-filled seconds, she hesitated.

"Very well, Snape," she finally said, "I will give you a chance to join us. I will take you into our stronghold and introduce you to my son."

He slightly inclined his dark head again, looking down so that she will not see the ironic triumph burning in his black eyes.

"… She said this? Oh, Severus, I'm so proud of you, but… this is like stepping into the lion's den, isn't it? When are you going?"

"Tomorrow morning. I know you are busy running the shop, but I'm afraid you will have to take my classes again. Unless," the corner of his mouth twitched, "the thought of seeing Dennis Creevey is unbearable to you."

"Stop it, Sev," said Celena, annoyed, "don't make fun of the poor boy, it's really rather pitiable when you think about it –"

"I have thought about what we discussed earlier," he changed the subject abruptly, "about… telling. About us."

She looked at him expectantly.

"I hope I have managed to talk you into it, Severus."

"I – I believe that at this stage, it will probably be for the best. If everyone must know anyway, including the Death Eaters, I would rather have it happen sooner and on my terms, rather than later when I am unprepared."

"…Married?" Bellatrix looked highly amused, "you got _married_, Snape? I would never have believed this… and who is Celena Costello?"

"She was a teacher at Hogwarts last year," Snape said drily, "came to fill in the Potions Master post."

"Her parents run a shop in Diagon Alley," supplied Narcissa Malfoy, "I think I saw her there once or twice when shopping for Draco's school supplies. A good-looking young woman, and very well-bred, too. And I think she is a pureblood, isn't that so, Severus?"

"That's correct," Snape nodded, but expressed no intention to elaborate. Celena had quite an unusual heritage, as a matter of fact, but they didn't have to know about it.

"But why all the secrecy, Severus?" Bellatrix inquired suspiciously. "From what you are telling, I gather that you have been married for months. How come no one heard a word about it?"

"Well, judging by the events of last year, when you sent your people to Hogwarts to hunt me down, I rather thought I might be dead before I ever manage to let you know I am actually your ally," said Snape, every word of his infused with sarcasm, "I knew I was in jeopardy. Why put my wife at risk, too? But now that matters are clear between us once more, I thought it safe to tell."

"You do understand, Snape," said Bellatrix, her eyes flashing dangerously, "that one act of disloyalty on your part, one bit of treachery, or even a reason for me to suspect you - and I will not hesitate to do what I had meant to do until not long ago? That means both you _and_ your sweet little wife."

Snape gave her a look of calm irony.

"Is that how you celebrate the renewal of our alliance, Bellatrix? By threatening me?"

They were walking out of the Manor and into the garden, preparing to Disapparate and make their way to the midst of a dark forest in Bulgaria.

"Just wanted to make sure we're on the same page, Snape," she cackled, before grabbing his arm and turning on the spot, engulfing them in compressing darkness.

The interior of the fortress reminded him a lot of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, only without the cobwebs and the overall sense of shabbiness. There were many draperies in the Slytherin colors of emerald and silver, and the words _Toujours Pur _were engraved upon one of the dark stone walls. It was like being back in the house of the Black family at the height of their power; Snape half-expected Regulus Black to come out from behind one of the stone pillars.

Bellatrix led him to a handsome room where a frightened-looking house elf poured them drinks, then promptly scurried away.

"Tell me about the boy," Snape said after taking a sip of his wine, trying not to sound too enthusiastic.

"He is the same age as my nephew Draco," said Bellatrix Lestrange, "but oh, so much finer. My pride and joy, my secret work of so many years. He is an extraordinary young man, you will see that when I introduce you to him. I have great hopes for him to become a Dark wizard around whom we can all rally once more. And here, Snape, I will need your assistance."

"I am at your disposal," he said courteously.

"My son had been educated at Durmstrang, under a false name," said Bellatrix, "for obvious reasons - and overall, I am quite happy with his education. But there is one branch of magic I regret to say he is not very strong at. I mean Legilimency. You, on the other hand, are a very skilled Legilimens, Snape. I will need you to help my son to nurture his natural talent and learn how to block his mind and delve into the minds of his enemies, like his father was so apt at doing."

"I will be honored to teach your son all I know," Snape assured her, "but do tell me, Bellatrix, what _is_ your son's name? Surely he is not a Riddle?"

"The Dark Lord did not wish to bestow the unworthy Muggle name of Riddle upon his only son," said Bellatrix, her nostrils flaring slightly, "he decided the boy should bear my maiden name. He is Anton Black."


	16. Anton Black

Eagerly, with a racing heart, though outwardly his face was as smooth, impassive and creaseless as a mask of stone, Snape followed Bellatrix Lestrange as her steps echoed down the stone corridors of the fortress. Finally, after many months of planning and scheming, of searching and spying, of lying, worming out of the most dangerous situations and putting his life at risk, it was finally going to happen. He was going to meet the son of the greatest Dark wizard of all times, and measure him up to know whether he was as dangerous as they all feared.

Bellatrix stopped before a carved wooden door and pushed it open. A boy – no, a young man, though his figure was slender and boyish and his face was smooth - was standing with his back to them, looking out of the window at the endless sea of dark trees in the Bulgarian forest. When he heard the door open, he turned towards it and smiled upon seeing them.

"Good morning, mother," he said, "I already thought I would have to breakfast with only Mulciber and Dolohov for company. And this is, I take it, Professor Snape?"

Anton Black put out a hand and Snape took it, his eyes studying the young man's face with careful, rapid attention. Judging from Dumbledore's memories and from photographs he had seen, Anton Black resembled his father as much as the young Voldemort resembled Tom Riddle senior. He was tall and lean, well built, with dark hair and handsome dark eyes, and finely carved features of a slightly haughty face. But there was something more lively and pleasant about him, which never existed in Voldemort even as a boy, a sort of openness in his handshake.

"It is a great pleasure for me to meet you, Professor Snape," he said, "my mother told me a lot about your talent, and I can't wait to begin our lessons."

"I am looking forward to it," said Snape, "Mr. Black."

"Do call me Anton. Let's go down to breakfast, shall we?"

It was already rather late, and they broke their fast on cold pheasants and cheese, baked apples and lots of fresh bread, and many flagons of fine, light white wine, brought to them on trays carried by silent and efficient house-elves. Snape ate little and drank only water, not wanting a single drop of alcohol to cloud his mind as he studied the young man sitting in front of him; he couldn't help but admire his light and graceful manner, and wondered whether he knew how many wizards inside and outside the country were putting all their efforts into locating, capturing and neutralizing him and the people residing with him in this small, well-protected fortress.

They walked back together, to the room they had exited earlier, which appeared to be the study where young Black pursued the finest forms of magical arts.

"My mother told me you are an excelled Legilimens and superb Occlumens, Professor Snape," said Anton Black. "But not much about the man you are. Tell me more about yourself. You have fought alongside my father for many years, isn't that so?"

"Yes," said Snape, "though, of course, I had to lie low for many years when the Dark Lord had not been sighted, and later, after the second War… I have led a grey, convincingly boring life, until I heard of your existence and set my heart on finding you."

A shadow of worry flickered in the dark eyes of Anton Black.

"I'm afraid I am not as skilled as my mother thinks I'm supposed to be, having a father like mine," he said. "And I'm afraid confinement doesn't suit me. During all my years in Durmstrang, naturally, I did not make a single friend. No one was supposed to know who I am. And now, living here… the place is a safehouse, but I don't fancy it as a permanent residence. Professor Snape, you don't know how much I'm looking forward to getting out of here, to finally exploring the world. But as my mother insists, I will only explore the world when I am ready to conquer it, and when I have gathered enough skillful helpers around me."

"That is your goal, naturally," Snape stated quietly. To his surprise, Anton Black merely shrugged.

"I do not delude myself; I'm not as apt at the magical arts as my father had been. He had truly pushed the bounds of magic beyond anything known to wizardkind. But I… I know I am not without talent. But do I have Lord Voldemort's ambition? Do I truly want the world at my feet? My mother insists that nothing less befits the son of Lord Voldemort."

"Have you ever known your father?"

"We met several times when I was little, but he didn't really take a great part in my education. We both know, Professor Snape, that he was too busy doing other things."

Yes, thought Snape. Like murdering others to make himself immortal.

"Do tell me you are not too tired to begin teaching me right now, Professor Snape," said Anton Black, "I am eager to begin."


	17. Officially Mrs Snape

It was breakfast, and Dennis Creevey was broodingly spreading marmalade on his toast, while Martin Nordholm tucked into a plate of eggs and bacon on his side.

"Hurry up, Dennis," he told him in between mouthfuls, "we really should get going."

"Hey, it's weekend," Dennis reminded him, "no classes."

"Hey, it's our match against Slytherin next week," retorted Martin, "you don't want to be the last to turn up for practice, Mr. Captain. Come on, conditions are ideal, it's clear and frosty, we're going to have a nice firm kick-off and good visibility…"

Dennis opened his mouth to snap back, but the two boys were interrupted by Melissa Hanson, who fluttered to the breakfast table looking positively flushed with excitement, clutching a fresh copy of the "Daily Prophet" in her hand.

"You will never believe this!" She said in a strangled squeal, "Oh, you are never, never going to believe this!"

"What?" Asked Martin, "Don't tell me Viktor Krum proposed to you and you came to ask the two of us to be bridesmaids?"

"Don't be a prat, Martin, I'm not getting married – not yet, anyway," she giggled again, "but someone we know _did_! Oh, you will never guess who –"

"Let's make it quicker," Martin cut across her, snatched the newspaper out of her hand, and flipped right back to the social page where he scanned the column announcing weddings and engagements.

"No way!" He yelped, "_No way!"_

"No way what?" asked Dennis irritably. Martin shoved the newspaper page under his nose, and as soon as Dennis's eyes became focused on the letters, they swam before his eyes as he read, "… Professor Severus Snape, long-standing Potions teacher and Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts school, to Miss Celena Costello, heiress to the legendary shop _Costello Concoctions_ in Diagon Alley…"

The newspaper dropped from Dennis's limp hand and spread with a rustle across the table.

"No," he whispered, "no… no, it can't be… it's impossible…"

"I told you!" Melissa said triumphantly, "I _told_ you something was very funny about Snape this term! His new clothes, his appearance, his absences from school! Everything! If it wasn't Snape we're talking about, I would have guessed right away it spells romance… but Professor Costello? They sure kept it quiet, didn't they?"

"It cannot be," Dennis said flatly, "there must be some kind of mistake."

But as he looked at the table and didn't see Snape, he knew in his heart that the little printed notice made perfect sense. Never in his previous years at school did Snape fail to turn up during meals as much as it happened this year. Never had the gloomy, vicious Potions Master looked so much better-groomed and so… distracted, almost as if he didn't enjoy giving detentions quite as much as before. Then there were Celena's assurances that there was someone else in her life – someone quite a few years older than her…

"But how?" He demanded in a desperate voice. "How could she have ever married him?"

"No idea, mate," said Martin, "I admit it, I thought you had lost your marbles when you told you are serious about Professor Costello, but if you asked me to put a bet on either you or Snape, I would have said that compared to his chances with her, you practically have it in your pocket."

"They never even liked each other," continued Dennis, wallowing in misery, "I mean, who could like Snape? _Snape!_ He always kept taunting her, the entire school knew they were bickering about how to teach Potions in a better way and whom to let into N.E.W.T classes..."

"Well, bickering isn't indifference," Melissa said cheerfully, "do you know how many couples started by being horrible to one another? Personally I think we were just – you know, just a bit blind to some things, because we thought we knew Snape so well. But it isn't really _that_ surprising when you think about it."

"Yes it is," remarked Martin, "Professor Costello is young, beautiful and really nice, and Snape is… well, he is Snape," he concluded.

"I hope you are happy now, Celena," said Severus Snape, looking at his wife, "at this very moment, people all over the country are shaking their heads with disbelief as they see my name paired with yours in the marriage column."

Celena, indeed, looked happy. In fact, despite being slightly green from morning sickness, she appeared to emanate a powerful glow as she turned her face toward him and smiled. Her wedding ring glittered on her finger now, coupled with the emerald band.

"I _am_ happy, Severus," she said, "what do I care what other people think? Let them be shocked. I expect a lot of fun when I go into the shop tomorrow. Now I'm officially Mrs. Snape. Not ashamed of me, are you?" She added with a wink.

A ruffled-looking owl tapped on their bedroom window. Snape let out an irritable sound.

"Probably more offers of congratulations," he said, "we already got notes from the Hogwarts teachers and Luna Lovegood, so I expect this should be –"

"From St. Mungo's, where I used to work," said Celena, ripping the envelope apart, " _we wish you many years of happiness together…_oh, cheer up, Sev, it's nearly Christmas, think how wonderful it's going to be to celebrate openly. Our first Christmas as a married couple! We'll invite my parents, won't we? And Uncle Remus, and Bill and Fleur, and Hagrid… and how about Harry and Ginny? I think Mrs. Weasley might be expecting them, but perhaps they'll like to go someplace else for a change… as a matter of fact, I think we can invite Molly and Arthur too, they're really nice, what do you think?"

"Bellatrix Lestrange threatened me," said Snape, ignoring her glorious vision of a Christmas in a big, warm company, "told me your life will be in an immediate danger if they detect so much as a whiff of treachery on my part."

"Well, I'm not worried," Celena said carelessly, "you are too intelligent to let that happen."

"You should be worried!" He said fiercely, "you are too light-headed, Celena."

She smiled serenely and took his hand.

"Do you love me, Severus?" She asked.

"How can you even ask?" He frowned. "You know I do. I will do anything for you. I will lay down my life to protect you. I cannot bear to lose you. Especially now, when you are…"

"You won't lose me," she said confidently, pressing his hand to her heart, "and I won't lose you. It won't be like last time, when You Know Who rose back to power and so many people died. From what you told, Anton Black cannot even be described as an evil wizard."

"No," said Snape, "I don't think he can. If Bellatrix thinks he can ever measure up to the level of Voldemort's evil intelligence, she is mistaken, and I'm secretly glad for the boy, who seems to deserve a better fate. The most she can ever get out of him, in my opinion, is using him as a mascot for other Death Eaters to pull them back together. But this, too, can be dangerous and should be stopped. And I have already told Minerva, Kingsley and Lupin what, in my opinion, should be done."

"Yes," said Celena, "storm the fortress, break its defenses, kill or capture all the Death Eaters residing there, and get Anton Black out into the world where he still has a chance of becoming a decent wizard. But the question is, practically, how do you think it can be done?"


	18. Plans and allies

"Of course it will be much easier now that you broke the Fidelius Charm, Severus," said Minerva McGonagall, "but you mustn't forget that their fortress has many other complicated enchantments protecting it, not to mention its high walls, which wouldn't be simple to penetrate even without magic in them. And they have the stolen secrets of Merlin, which they, of course, won't hesitate to use," she added as an afterthought.

They were sitting around the heavily laden table at the Snape home, elbow to elbow, with the Wireless Wizard Network playing quiet Christmas songs in the background, most of them performed by Celestina Warbeck. Mr. and Mrs. Costello couldn't make it since they had an earlier invitation to Mr. Costello's sister, but they promised to come by for lunch the next day. Still, they were quite a big company for such a tiny dining room – apart from Minerva McGonagall, Bill and Fleur and Remus Lupin with his family, Celena also invited Kingsley Shacklebolt, Viktor Krum, Harry and Ginny, and Ron and Hermione. Hermione was now sporting a twinkling diamond ring on her finger. When Celena looked at her radiant face and heard the happy news of her engagement to Ron Weasley, she offered her most heartfelt congratulations, but also felt a twinge of pity for Draco Malfoy – about which, of course, she remained silent.

"You are forgetting we have made two very important alliances, Minerva," said Kingsley Shacklebolt. "First, there are the gargoyles. If we attack by night, they can be a great help. They can fly, and I have seen them training – they are the finest squad of fighters I've ever met."

"Still, there is the matter of transferring them to Bulgaria," said Remus Lupin, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Will a Portkey work on non-humans?"

"I'm in the process of clarifying this matter with the Department of Magical Transportation," said Kingsley.

"You hadn't told us, Kingsley!" said McGonagall angrily. "Don't you know how important it is that each one of us knows what the others are doing?"

"And there are the dryads," said Viktor Krum, "I haff heard from the locals that the forest is highly magical. I don't know vether the Death Eaters knew that ven they built their fortress, but they cut off many trees in the process, and I'll bet the dryads didn't like that. Ve can convince them to go on our side, to help us. Of course, for that ve vill need Celena –"

"If you are counting on my wife to take part in the battle, I'm afraid you are deluding yourself, Mr. Krum," Snape said coldly with a dangerous flash of his black eyes, "in her condition, what Celena needs most of all is safety and rest, and I'm certainly not going to permit…"

"I'm not going to fight, Severus," said Celena, trying to placate him, "all I need is to go there and try to talk to the dryads – no one else can do that, you know –"

"I don't care, you are not going near there. What if they know we are about to attack and put Anti-Apparition jinxes on the entire area?"

"Well, right now you are in their good books, aren't you?" Celena smiled sweetly, "You know, you can even bring me there with their knowledge – introduce me, as a gesture of friendship, you know – and then take me to a stroll around the forest. No one will suspect."

"You've got some nerve, Celena," said Bill, toasting her.

"I shall have to think about it," said Snape, looking very grave. "I am not prepared to take risks… sounds terribly reckless…" he trailed off.

"Well, this is not supposed to be a meeting of the Order, you know!" said Celena, getting up. "I expect no one will say no to some home-made apple tart and vanilla ice cream?"

While they were having dessert, Hermione was already going on full-steam about the wedding plans, sounding more girly than ever before.

"We will get married over the summer," she said, "we don't have an exact date, but we're thinking perhaps around mid-July. Ginny and Luna will be my bridesmaids, of course, and I've already chosen the style of dress I'm going to wear… Mum and Dad are really happy, they have met Ron and his family quite a while ago and they say Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are the nicest pair of in-laws they can imagine…"

In the meantime, Lupin and Kingsley were having a more serious conversation.

"So Goliath told you he is definitely going through with this plan if we can pull it off?" asked Kingsley.

"Definitely," Lupin replied firmly. "He is eager to do that, and he said that when it comes to fighting Dark Magic, he and his clan are entirely at our disposal."

Of course, Lupin omitted the details of the ugly shouting match between Goliath and his wife, the inadvertent witness of which he became after discussing the Order's plan with the gargoyle leader.

"Humans," Demona spat out, "human intrigues, human battles! What good has it ever done to our kind to meddle in the affairs of humans? How have we been rewarded for offering our help? What will we gain from travelling far from our place of refuge, for risking our lives, for placing our lives at the service of wizards?"

"Not much," boomed Goliath, his face darkening with anger, "nothing, if defeating the most evil wizards that ever walked upon the face of this earth doesn't mean anything to you, Demona!"

"What is good and what is evil?" She asked with a rather Shakespearean intonation, while her husband towered over her and Lupin shuffled his feet uncomfortably.

"They drove us out of our home!" roared Goliath.

"Only because we were foolish enough to resist them when the Dark Lord was at the height of his power," Demona said calmly. "While, if we had joined them, they might have shared some of their power with us."

"Would you support those who murdered innocents, only to indulge your ambition? Do you think they respect us more than non-wizard humans? You fool, Demona, I thought you had realized the mistake of your ways!"

"I have," said Demona, "I have realized that the best we can do is stay as far away from humans as we can. But you, Goliath, you continue to be so maddeningly complacent to the wishes of humans, of this Order, that you are ready to risk the lives of our children, of our brothers and sisters, in order to help humans!"

"Our lives will be in far more risk if the Dark wizards come back to power, wife!" barked Goliath.

"I swear," Demona said in a venomous hiss, her eyes slits of gleaming red, "I swear, Goliath, that if I had loved you any less, one of us would be dead before he had the chance to commit this act of foolishness."

"Did you forget you have sworn to obey my leadership when you came back?" asked Goliath through gritted teeth, clenching his fists.

"Your leadership? Ah, I see. When you have nothing rational to say, you attempt to reduce me to a state of mindless obedience."

"Mindless?" Goliath repeated quietly, and for the first time, he sounded as dangerous as his wife. "Oh no, not mindless, Demona. On the contrary, you should keep in mind what you got into last time you gave too much free rein to your independent thinking. You, who pride yourself so much for not wanting to be subject to any human, became enslaved to the Death Eaters, unable to tear apart from their alliance. Gargoyles and humans are natural allies, why do you keep denying that?"

"Are you saying that our kind has no purpose but to serve humans?" growled Demona.

"Aren't you listening? Not serve. Be allied with, for our sake as much as for theirs. Our paths will undoubtedly cross, the question is only, which humans we choose to befriend. And luckily for our clan," he added with a tone of finality, "I am the one to decide that, not you."

"Zis morning sickness is killing me," complained Fleur to Celena. The two of them were sitting by the kitchen table in Shell Cottage, drinking steaming hot mugs of peppermint tea and watching the snow swirl outside the windows. Celena had been suffering from sickness too, triggered by the most unexpected things, like the smell of fried eggs or seeing a pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

"I know, Fleur," she sighed, "and I'm definitely fattening already, soon I won't be able to fit into any of my clothes."

"Yes, zat's 'orrible," Fleur nodded sympathetically, "I 'ave already tried putting a Stretching Charm on some of mine, but it doesn't really 'elp, it seems like I will need an 'ole new wardrobe."

"We are going tomorrow," Celena said, after a little pause, and took another sip of tea. Fleur's eyes widened.

"Tomorrow, Celena? To zat – zat place? Ah, cherie, I was worried when Severus did zat for the first time, and now you… be careful."

"I will try to talk as little as possible," told Celena, "Severus said he will handle it. I just need to smile gracefully and look confident."

Even though her heart was beating violently in her throat, Celena definitely looked confident as she walked down the stony corridors of the evil fortress, wearing sweeping robes of emerald velvet richly embroidered in silver, and a cloak lined with ermine. She was smiling as though she was a queen stepping onto the territory of one of her vassals, but she shuddered inwardly as Anton Black inquired after her health and bent over her hand, brushing it with his lips.

"Thank you for the privilege of introducing me to your lovely wife, Professor Snape," he said, "Lady Snape is as beautiful and charming as you are skillful and intelligent. Come, my lady, I will walk you to the terrace, it's a fine windless day and the view is quite splendid during sunset. Then we can proceed to the dining room."

"This boy deserves better," Celena whispered to her husband when they went out into the forest after dinner, under the pretext of getting fresh air to soothe Celena's feeling of illness – her pregnancy was becoming so obvious that there was no point in hiding it, "better than being a pawn in the hands of Bellatrix, anyway. He is like a prince."

"With any luck, Anton Black will be free to choose his way soon enough," said Snape. "Now… it should be easier for you to speak to them now that it's dark, shouldn't it? Do you think you can do it?"

"I don't know," Celena said doubtfully, "I can try. Don't forget that when I spoke to them last time, they were the one to call out to me. I don't know if I can summon them. But I can try."

Severus was very quiet as they walked forward into the forest, stopping at a small clearing that for some reason appealed to Celena, though she couldn't quite explain why.

"Can I speak to you?" She asked quietly, looking sideways at her husband, who shook his head.

"It sounded differently when you spoke to them last time," he said.

Celena drew breath and tried again, even more quietly:

"Forest folk, can you come out and speak to me? It's me, your half-sister, calling you!"

This time, she knew she had succeeded. No sound escaped her lips but a faint rustle, and several seconds after she finished talking, several figures stepped out of the shadow, tall, slender and glowing green, and looked expectantly at her.

There were three of them; she saw when her eyes adjusted to the darkness, one that looked like a man and two women, one of whom looked about the age of Celena's mother, the other younger than herself. They approached her, gliding over the surface of the twig-littered forest floor, not making a sound, and the expression upon their beautiful, unearthly faces was apprehensive.

"You called," said the man, "and we came."

"I…" said Celena, suddenly lost for words, "Er,"

"It is clear that some of your blood comes from us," said the younger woman. "What is it that you will have of us, half-sister?"

"Help," said Celena, regaining her senses, "I am asking for help. Do you know the wizards who reside in the middle of this forest?"

A rustle swept across the treetops around the clearing, even though there was no wind.

"Do we know them?" repeated the older woman, "do we know the evil men who besmirched the sacred place of our ancestors with evil magic? We have tried to put up resistance, to prevent them from taking residence here, but their magic is too strong and we could do nothing against them."

"We are on the same side, then," said Celena, brightening, "we want to get rid of them too. We want to come and drive them out –"

"And replace them in our sacred forest?" asked the man, "No, it will not happen. We will drive them out ourselves, take it as long as it may, and we will not have other humans here."

"We don't plan to – to continue here," said Celena, trying to be patient, "all we want is to get them out, and then we will be gone too. They – they are planning something really evil, surely you have guessed that, and we want to stop them. Can we count on you?"

"What is your offer?" asked the older woman.

"…It should work," said Kingsley, wiping sweat from his tired brow, "as long as you use the portkey at a time when it's dark both here and in Bulgaria. Do you understand this, Goliath?"

Goliath nodded.

"Your clan will carry us on your backs. Naturally, those of us who are heavier will go with those who are stronger. Do you think you can manage Hagrid?"

"If anyone can manage Hagrid, I can," said Goliath, "I can certainly lift him, and I hope I will be able to fly with him. The rest should be fine as well."

"I hope so," nodded Kingsley, "because we cannot Apparate into the fortress, and it will be too dark for broomsticks. Your wife will be staying behind?"

"No, she refused to do that," said Goliath with a faint growl, "I will keep an eye on her, Kingsley. And Korian will carry the man who is supposed to guide us, isn't that so?"

"Yes," said Kingsley, "we will have two guides. Severus can fly, obviously, so he doesn't need to be carried. And Draco Malfoy will go on Korian's back…" he shook his head, "boy, I sure hope we aren't making a mistake by allowing this. But frankly, we need him, and Severus claims he can be trusted not to let us down on this one. When do you think you will be ready to carry out the plan, Goliath?"

"Tomorrow, if need be," replied the gargoyle leader in his deep, slow voice, so like Kingsley's, "in the meantime, we will continue training. Heaven knows we need every ounce of practice we can get."

"I will not stay behind when you are fighting! How do I think I'm going to feel, being far away when you are there, putting your life at risk?"

"I won't let you," hissed Snape, "I won't! Don't you understand, once the fight begins there will be no more tricks, and if they see you they will aim to kill?"

"They will aim to kill you, too, as soon as they understand you had switched sides, Severus!"

"I'm not afraid of death. This is not bravado," he added hastily, "I have been near death more times than I can count, and once, I thought it was the end. But every time, it was only my life I was risking. Now… I won't be able to fight if I know you are in danger. I will be paralyzed with fear… for you, and for our child. I have a feeling this is going to be a girl. If not for me, then for her – stay behind, keep safe," he lifted her chin and made her look straight into his eyes, "Celena?"

She gave him a heavy, reluctant nod. His chest was still heaving with the power of emotion he had just expressed.

"And Draco?" asked Celena, "Will he really be ready to betray his aunt?"

"He will help us," said Snape, grateful that she had complied, "As long as we keep it discreet. He has changed a lot, Draco Malfoy. More than I could have hoped."


	19. Lucius on the loose

Draco Malfoy walked swiftly, quietly, his cloak sweeping behind him and his hand never leaving the wand underneath it. He knew that tonight, he would take one more step towards manhood, towards paying his debts and leaving his past behind. He walked through the quiet Muggle town, asleep in the dead of night, with only the occasional drunken wanderer passing through the streets.

He stopped underneath the grey apartment building, so inconspicuous and mundane – so Muggle. Like him, she still lives with her parents, he thought. But of course, the heir to Malfoy Manor would not be so quick to leave the luxury that has always been his, in favor of a bachelor's apartment.

A dark figure moved in the shadows, and Draco Malfoy's reflexes, sharpened by years of playing Quidditch – despite all people said about him buying his way onto the team, they couldn't deny his performance had been quite good most of the time – were at his advantage. Within seconds, his fingers closed on his father's wrist, and when the man turned towards him sharply, his teeth were bared and there was gleaming fire in his eyes, before his expression relaxed as he recognized his only son.

"Draco," his chest heaved as he lowered his wand, but didn't put it away, "what are you doing here?"

The year Lucius Malfoy had spent in Azkaban seemed to age him beyond proportion. Creases distorted the smoothness of his haughty face now, and there was grey in his hair amidst the sleek blond mass. A slight stooping in his shoulders, a barely noticed bend in his knees gave away his weakness in a way he was unable to hide.

"No, father," Draco Malfoy's voice was very grave, "the question is, what are _you _doing here? Don't you know that you are on probation, and if you are caught wandering at night with your wand out, you'll be shipped straight back to Azkaban?"

Lucius Malfoy let out a derisive noise.

"You are just like Severus. I thought I would never be able to escape his vigil. 'Lucius, be careful. Lucius, be reasonable. Lucius, you will be caught'… is the head of the Malfoy family meant to live like a rat hiding in its hole?"

"Are you calling our house a hole?" Draco made a brave attempt to laugh, "you know it's only temporary, father. As soon as they sign the order for your permanent release, you will be free to walk wherever and whenever you want, no curfews."

"Well, I am free to walk wherever and whenever I want now, as you can see," Lucius laughed unpleasantly, "besides, who is going to look for me in this dirty, stinky Muggle trash pit?"

"Father," said Draco, "confide in me. I confess I followed you, but only out of concern. What are you doing here?"

"I'm about to show that those who mess up with Lucius Malfoy pay dearly for it," the older man replied through gritted teeth, lifting his wand once more.

Even though Draco's insides went cold at the sound of this, he knew how crucial it was to keep an appearance of calm.

"I happen to know what you are planning to do. You think – and rightly so – that we deserve revenge. We will get it, father. We just need to wait a bit."

Lucius Malfoy glowered at him, looking half-maddened by the poison of disappointed hopes and downfall from grace.

"It will take more than temporary unpopularity to destroy the Malfoys," continued Draco, pressing his point, "we are an old, pure-blood, respectable, wealthy family. You will see, father, in a year – at most, in two – people will forget the part we played, and everything will go back to normal again."

"I hate them" said Lucius Malfoy in a hoarse voice, "Potter, Weasley and Granger. Those three brats ruined everything – everything! – for us and the likes of us. Just think, Draco, about the position to which we have risen when the Dark Lord was powerful… and think about how low we sank now…"

"Yes," said Draco, thinking about the nightmare of his sixth year in Hogwarts, when every pore of his soul protested against him becoming a murderer, as much as he liked to boast and brag to prove otherwise, "I hate them too," he lied.

"Then help me, Draco, instead of trying to stop me!" Lucius said in a whisper that sent shivers down Draco Malfoy's spine.

"But father, is taking petty revenge on a common Mudblood," Draco said in his most reasonable voice, forcing the ugly word that had escaped his lips so easily countless times before, "worth the trouble we might be in? No, it is not. Think about my mother and me. Think that we might lose everything here, and gain nothing. Let's go home, father. Let's just go home."

When he walked back, with his arm around his father's shoulders, he breathed an inward sigh of relief. Hermione Granger was safe, he thought to himself. She was safe, sound asleep, Ron Weasley's diamond ring sparkling on her finger, and their wedding ticking nearer with every day that went by.

When he came home, he sat in his bedroom for a long time, unable to sleep, and his hand traced words on paper; black ink poured from the tip of his quill like blood pours from a wound, forming phrases he knew she would never read.

_"Granger… no, this is not how one should address the woman he loves, is it? Hermione. But it doesn't matter what I call you, of course, because you are going to marry him anyway. I have known for years that you would, it was obvious and you are perfect for one another. For years, you and Ron Weasley were destined to be together, just as you and I were destined to be enemies, and nothing I say or do could change that._

_In my mind, I can vividly imagine how your eyes are widening as you read this letter, how you are blinking to make sure you are actually reading words written by Draco Malfoy's hand. But I assure you, I am not under the Imperius curse, and I have not swallowed any potion that would make me temporarily insane. I am just confessing what I have kept hidden for so long – confessing only to this blank, mute piece of paper, because you will never read this letter if it depends on me. _

_I am doing what I can do, as little as it is: redeeming myself, in your eyes, in my eyes and in the eyes of others, doing something as Draco – simply Draco, not heir of the Malfoys. I am trying to undo at least some of the mistakes my father had made, both in his choices and my upbringing. Tonight, I stopped him from murdering you in your sleep. He is insane, though it is not obvious, and I know I will have to keep an eye on him for the rest of his life. He would have taken your life with the easy disgust of crushing a cockroach, and I intend to remain constantly vigilant, to make sure he does not raise his wand to harm innocents. _

_I saved your life, Hermione, as you had once helped to save mine, and though you will never know it, I feel warmed by the thought that finally, I have done something worthwhile. My life is not completely useless. I have been your silent protector for these past months. I have followed you; I have watched you tenderly, ready to lay down my life any moment to save yours. _

_Since when have I loved you? I have asked myself a thousand times, and I find it difficult to answer this question. I just know that on the day you slapped me, in our third year, I looked at you with admiration as you were walking away - as much as I hated to admit that. I can never thank you enough for that slap. There were always enough people to grovel before pure-blood, well-bred, rich, arrogant Draco Malfoy. There was only one Hermione Granger to put me in my place and show me what a selfish little brat I was. _

_Only in our sixth year, I realized how far I had gone. Here I was, scheming and failing to kill Dumbledore on the Dark Lord's orders, and inwardly so happy I was failing, and so scared for my life, for the lives of my parents, and all I wanted was to go back. To undo it all. To never have called you Mudblood, to never have shown you the ugly side of someone who was raised like a pampered prince at Malfoy Manor. _

_I love you. I love everything about you, particularly what I don't have: your kindness and loyalty, your devotion to your friends, your passion for truth and justice. Our ways have parted and I am ready to walk away, as it would be insane to hope; but you changed me, and I will never be the same again. Tonight, I am beginning a new life, one where I will challenge the norms I have been raised with, and pave my own way. If anything decent ever comes out of me, it will be thanks to you, Hermione Granger._

_Farewell. I know you will have a wonderful life._

_D.M."_

Draco folded the letter and slid it into an envelope addressed to Hermione Granger. He then sealed the envelope and put it in one of the drawers of the desk of fine polished wood. He didn't bother to lock the drawer. Even though Malfoy Manor was not his own home, here he was ensured of his privacy like nowhere else. He knew that not his mother, nor his father, nor the faithful house elf, would come to pry among his things. The only instance in which there could be an exception would be if he died, and in that case, he wouldn't care anyway.

Was he afraid of death? Draco didn't delude himself. Upon the final battle, his true loyalty could no longer be hidden, and then his aunt's wrath would be directed in all its might against him – him and Professor Snape. In his sixth year, he was but a weak and foolish boy, scheming and making a plan that was much too grand for him, much too sinister, something he could boast of but never carry through. But now he has put on the mask of a turncloak, a position which was new to him. What would he do if he had to face the raised wand of Bellatrix Lestrange? He saved Hermione, but who would save him?

He didn't lie to himself. He was young and wanted to live. He was full of hopes, however vague they were. Soon, if all goes right, he would be openly redeemed, and then… then what? A corner of his mouth twitched bitterly. Even if, by some incredibly lucky turn of events, Hermione broke off her engagement with Ron Weasley (something that seemed highly unlikely to happen, unless Weasley committed some utterly foolish blunder akin to his "relationship" with Lavender Brown in their sixth year), would that mean his chances were any higher? He doubted that. But the world was a better place for having her around, and he wanted to belong to this world. He wanted to breathe and walk upon the earth, and strive to do things that were good and worthwhile. He wanted, finally, to have the freedom to be who he truly is. And he wasn't planning to give up.


	20. Verge of battle

At this rate, Luna Lovegood will soon know perfectly well how to manage the shop on her own, thought Celena as she walked down the corridors of Hogwarts once again, on her way to the Potions dungeon classroom. She knew, however, that the job will soon become too trivial for the bright, talented young woman, and made a mental note to ask her to recommend a candidate for her post when she eventually decides to resign.

When she entered the classroom, there was a lot of whispering and giggling among the seventh-years, Gryffindors and Slytherins alike. She didn't mind. Last time she provided a reason for gossip, it was because her fiancé, Timothy Whitechapple, got engaged to another woman without even bothering to let Celena know. Compared to that, whispered conversations among students and staff about her marriage were even faintly pleasant. She loved being married, and it was so much better now that it was official. It was only Dennis Creevey's accusing stare that made her squirm.

"Concentrate, Miss Hanson, concentrate!" Celena said insistently when Melissa's potion bubbled over the rim of her cauldron, covering the surface of the desk with frothy greenish liquid. Melissa, who was talking quickly and quietly to her friend Samantha Gardner, had not noticed anything, and only jumped up with a start when she heard Celena's voice.

"Oops, sorry, Professor!" She giggled, clearing away the mess with one wave of her wand. "It's just that – we were just saying – we must congratulate you, Professor, mustn't we?"

"Yes, yes," said Celena impatiently. She was already growing weary of this. "Thank you, Melissa, but do continue with your work! Must I remind you that your N.E. are looming closer and closer? Pay attention, everyone. If your potion hasn't turned purple yet, add one – just one – tablespoon of toad spawn. Go on. Now, Mr. Castaway, show me what you have done so far," she called out, moving from Melissa and Samantha's table.

Predictably enough, Dennis Creevey lingered behind after the rest of the students have hurried out of the classroom for their next lesson, impatiently waving away Martin Nordholm's insistent tugs on his sleeve.

"Why?" He demanded in a very quiet, quivering voice when he approached Celena's desk. She winced. His eyes, hurt and furious, seemed to burn her. "Why didn't you tell me it was him?"

"I'm sorry, Dennis," Celena said sincerely, "but we had our reasons to keep this quiet. I didn't want you to get hurt. I hadn't realized –"

"That all I did during my Potions lessons, I did for you?" Dennis asked bitterly, "That I had never been able to keep my eyes off you from the first moment I saw you?"

"Dennis, Dennis, how could I have known?" Celena said softly, "It was obvious to you, not to me."

"I thought that perhaps he had put you under the Imperius curse, or slipped you a love potion, and tricked you into marrying him this way," continued Dennis in a tone of terrible calm, "but you don't behave like someone who had been Imperiused or given love potion. You seem normal – as normal as you can be, anyway, considering that you have married Snape."

"Just this once, I will not punish you for insulting my husband," said Celena, her voice quivering with anger. "But rest assured, Dennis, that I will not tolerate any further impertinence from you. You don't know Severus. If you had known him like I do, you wouldn't have questioned for a moment the sincerity of my wish to become his wife – which, I assure you, he did not pressure me to do."

"I know he's evil!" Cried out Dennis, losing his temper, "and for the life of me, I will never understand how someone like you, wise and kind and beautiful and patient and good-tempered to everyone, could ever have seen something attractive in someone like Snape!"

"_Professor_ Snape, Dennis," Celena corrected him, her nostrils flaring, "and perhaps, when you grow up a bit, you will see how arrogant of you it is to think that you know everything about every person around you, even those who have never had reason to confide the intimate details of their lives to you. Trust me that I have good reasons to back me up when I say I'm proud to be Mrs. Snape."

Having said that, Celena picked up her cloak and her teacher's journal and swept out from the dungeon, leaving Dennis Creevey behind, clenching his fists.

She walked out into the grounds, her chest still rising and falling rapidly after her exchange with Dennis. She couldn't help but feel sorry for the boy, and she also felt guilty about missing the signs that she could have read last year. Yes, if she had thought about it, she could have guessed he was infatuated with her from the very beginning, and who knows how much she encouraged this affliction by giving him private lessons, with just the two of them closeted cozily together?

It was a bright, sunny winter day, and students were taking advantage of the morning break in an unusually fine weather to walk out through the snowy grounds, and perhaps strike up an occasional snowball fight, scooping up yesterday's snow which lay thick and white upon the ground. To her surprise, Celena noticed a familiar figure – the broad shoulders, closely cropped dark head and prominent nose and eyebrows of Viktor Krum, who was walking across the grounds with one arm around the waist of Melissa Hanson. Celena hastened her stride until she caught up with the couple, who seemed to be lost in a world of their own.

"Morning, Viktor," she said icily, "enjoying a tour of the grounds?"

"I vos looking for you, Celena," he said, rather guiltily, and relinquished his hold of Melissa's waist.

"Oh, I see," Celena fought the urge to let out a snort, "well, now you've found me, which is great – because I've been looking for you all over Hogsmeade in the morning."

"Ve vill talk later, alright, Mel?" Krum told Melissa, who nodded and started walking back towards the castle, not before turning around to give him a final wink and wave. He stared after her dreamily, until her slender figure was lost behind the greenhouses.

"I was not the only one who was looking for you, as a matter of fact," Celena remarked, feeling that she is beginning to lose her temper, "Severus, Minerva and Kingsley had all wanted to speak to you, too, and what are you doing? Casting your masculine charms," Celena laughed derisively, "on a schoolgirl!"

"Melissa is of age," retorted Viktor Krum, insulted, "I am perfectly vithin my right. And it is just, you know, the magic of Hogwarts – it is the second time I find love here, I just hope I vill be luckier this time –"

"Oh, I won't tell you it's not allowed," snapped Celena, "though I would definitely prefer it if you didn't make romance your first priority right now! In case you forgot, Viktor, our agenda for this week is quite packed. We have, what, a castle full of Death Eaters to defeat, isn't that so? And we need you to help with some final details in the plan, and where are you? Oh, most likely, enjoying a cup of coffee with Miss Hanson in Madam Puddifoot's teashop!"

"Alright, alright, I'm going to come up to the Headmistress's office," said Viktor Krum, "volk with me, vill you? And do tell me," he added with a wink, "isn't Melissa the most charming young girl you haff ever seen?"

Celena nudged him playfully in the ribs.

"No more than you deserve, Viktor," she smiled as they started walking.


	21. Death Eaters prepare

At the powerful Dark fortress in Bulgaria, Bellatrix Lestrange was pacing back and forth before Severus Snape, whose face was blank and calm while hers was contorted with rage – a sign of weakness, thought Snape, though he would never be foolish enough to tell her this.

"They are planning an attack, I tell you, Snape," said Bellatrix, agitated, her chest heaving, "they intend to be done with us in one swift stroke."

"Surely even the Order of the Phoenix wouldn't be that stupid, Bellatrix," Snape said calmly. "But if this is what they plan, so much the better for us, so much the worse for them."

A malicious grin spread over Bellatrix's wasted face.

"Yes," she said, "I have information they plan to let gargoyles in on the game. If so, this is a grave mistake they are making. I know for a fact at least half of them are growing mutinous with that great oaf, Goliath, who was not even able to return them to their beloved Wyvern wood. They believe, and rightly so, that our allegiance would have been much more valuable. If only I could have made contact with Demona again – but you will do it for us, won't you, Severus?"

"If that is what you wish," Snape said smoothly, "though I really would rather avoid any kind of contact with that savage beast."

"Oh, no doubt they are filthy, ugly half-breeds," nodded Bellatrix, "and she is the most preposterously arrogant of them all. Wants to carry a wand, indeed! But Snape, we need them. We need her. If it comes to an attack, and they manage to get the gargoyles here – though I remain hopeful they will not have access to the powerful magic they will need to make this happen – I need at least half of them to follow Demona, and preferably more. And I need this to be unexpected."

"Have no doubt, Bellatrix," said Snape, "it shall be this way."

In the privacy of his chamber, Snape did not feel the same confidence he expressed earlier to Bellatrix. At the bottom line, it would all come to choosing a side, and he was not sure how much he could really rely on Draco Malfoy or Demona. In Draco, he saw his younger self, plagued by remorse and trying to reform for the woman he loved. But thinking this way was sentimental, and he didn't want it to obscure the clear evaluation he had to make of the Malfoy boy. And Demona… he couldn't deny it unnerved him to be on the same side as her. Despite her supposed reform, he knew she was cruel, power-hungry, treacherous and – he had to admit it – possessed sharp intelligence and lightning-speed reflexes. She was lethal to her enemies, and Snape was not quite sure she had decided, even for the time being, who her enemies are.

"Do you realize what this creature is?" he confided his doubt at the meeting of the Order, which included himself, Minerva, Kingsley, Viktor Krum, Remus Lupin, Bill Weasley and Hestia Jones.

"Yes," said Hestia, "but all the same, she wouldn't fight against her kin, would she?"

"She had done that," Lupin said grimly, "yes, Hestia, I'm afraid so."

"Her greatest desire is to wield a wand, to possess magic," pressed Snape, "to obtain what she wants, she is willing to sacrifice a lot. And last time she had to face this choice, she chose magic and power over Goliath, her supposed great love, and over her daughter. She joined the Death Eaters because she believed they will be her shortest cut towards magical power, but she doesn't set much store by humans in general. If I may remind you, Demona has a history of attempting to destroy the entire human race. She claims she has reformed, but frankly, I don't know if we can count on her when it comes to battle."

"You got your second chance, didn't you, Snape?" Kingsley raised an eyebrow. "Yet you deny the possibility of reform when it comes to others. It doesn't seem exactly fair to me."

"This has nothing to do with being fair," snapped Snape, "it's about winning the battle. If I cannot be noble-hearted and trusting, so be it."

"I suggest you talk to Goliath," said Lupin, "he knows his wife. He isn't blinded by her, and he intends to keep a close eye on her during the battle. I'm sure he will be even more vigilant if you share your concerns."

"Me, wander into the Forbidden Forest in search of that bloody gargoyle? No. You do that, Lupin. Go and tell him that under no circumstances his aspiring witch of a wife should have access to Merlin's wand or Merlin's secret books."

"Fine," nodded Lupin, "I shall ask Hagrid to walk with me. With all due respect to Goliath, it isn't wise to enter the Forest alone."


	22. Anton Black walks away

The air was thick with the sounds of fighting; it was like the battle of Hogwarts come again, with slashing of wands and battle cries and the roars of men and gargoyles. Severus walked forward calmly, confidently, not a word escaping his thin lips while his wand darted left and right, up and down, back and forward, defeating his foes with perfectly aimed spells which were even more horrifying at their quietness – few wizards were as good at non-verbal spells as he was. At distance, he could hear Hestia Jones cry out, "Merlin's pants, it's full of Devil's Snare over there - turn left, Kingsley, turn left!"; from the corner of his eye, he saw Goliath, roaring like an enraged lion, crushing Death Eaters with his mighty taloned hands and his deadly tail.

Even in the midst of death and destruction, Bill Weasley couldn't help but stop for a second to watch the carnage.

"Galloping gar –" he said weakly, but stopped himself mid-sentence and grinned, giving Goliath the thumbs-up.

In the meantime, the dryads stormed at the foundation of the fortress, crumbling stone and rattling the entrance gate.

Snape knew he had revealed himself now, and there was no going back. Blood was pouring from one of his cheeks, his robes were torn and his left shoulder was burning and stinging where a hex shot by Avery hit him. Behind him, he could hear Bellatrix attempting to get at him, held back by Hagrid, Korian and Viktor Krum.

"Get back here, Snape! Get back here, you cowardly blood-traitor scum! I shall kill you, I swear! Get him! Someone get him! Rowle, Mulciber, Rosier!"

Almost lazily, he half-turned his head to look at her face, which was distorted with rage.

"I most certainly won't deny myself the pleasure of facing you one on one, Bella," he said, an evil grin twisting his lips, "first, I'm afraid, I have business to attend – but do save some for me when I return."

He knew they were outnumbered, and even with the help of the dryads, their victory was not certain. So mighty was the power of old pure-blood families, so many the wizarding secrets they held, that the Order of the Phoenix could never hope to crush them by sheer power. But his cunning had helped win the battle once before, and he was hopeful now again. He walked confidently forward, to the very depths of the fortress, away from the main battle. As he descended the roughly carved stone steps, he felt as though he is stepping into his own grave, but he thought of Celena, who was safe at home, and thinking of her caused something soft and warm to stir next to the forced, terrible coldness of his heart.

He knew only too well they wouldn't let Anton Black into the midst of fighting until things got really desperate – the boy was too valuable. He lifted his wand, and prepared to duel to death as he approached the Dark Lord sons' chambers, pointed his wand at the heavy oak door, and forced it open by a spell.

He was impressed by the calmness with which Anton Black received him, even though his face was very white and his eyes flickered backward and forward from him to the door and windows. He didn't even attempt to fight. Merlin's wand, the precious treasure of sorcery, was hanging almost idly from between his fingers. The boy had dignity, he couldn't deny that.

"Professor Snape," he said, "am I much mistaken by saying that you are not quite who I thought you were?"

"I do hope, Anton," replied Snape, "that it was the last time in my life I had to pretend to be something I am not."

The boy simply looked at him, understanding blossoming in those deep, intelligent, handsome dark eyes, so like and so unlike his father's.

"So now what?" he asked, "did you plan to kill me, take my wand and go back into the fighting?"

"Merlin, no," Snape shook his head, "I actually planned to put a full body-bind curse on you, Anton, until the battle is over. I suppose you had a different plan, of course. You were about to go upstairs and join the fighting, weren't you?"

To his surprise, the boy merely shrugged.

"To tell you the truth, I do not much fancy fighting at all. On either side. It's all my mother's ideas and ambitions, not mine, and if right now she is going to be shipped off to Azkaban, I think this is an ideal opportunity for me to slip away unnoticed, what do you think?

"Slip away?" Snape looked at him, stunned. He was dumbstruck; it was like gearing up to fight a dragon and finding himself with a fluffy little rabbit instead.

"Yes," said Anton Black, "I have my own wand, see? Yew and unicorn hair, twelve inches, nice and springy. I'm perfectly happy with it, and I intend to leave Merlin's wand here, if this is what you are after. As for his secret writings," he indicated towards a corner, "I've never got around to studying them, and to tell you the truth, I think I have much better plans for my life."

"You puzzle me, Anton Black," said Snape, "and this is not something I can say about many people."

"Goodbye, Professor Snape," said Anton, pulling out a broomstick and a rather battered traveling cloak from under a bench, "I hope we meet again someday, and if we do, I will be under a completely different identity. I plan on heading to Macedonia, to schoolfellows who will accept and hide me if I confide part of my story to them. I expect I can trust you to keep my secret from my mother, Professor, can't I?"

Snape nodded, still disbelieving, as he watched the boy mount his broomstick, throw a small rucksack over his back, and soar out of the window – above the storming treetops and towards the black, star-strewn sky. Without so much as a look backwards, Anton Black was gone.

The fighting was still in full swing when he got back, and he joined his fellows with even greater power this time. He saw Kingsley dueling Mulciber, he noticed from the corner of his eye how Minerva McGonagall took on both Avery and Nott at once. Draco Malfoy, as they had arranged previously, was nowhere to be seen – afraid of his aunt's and his father's wrath, he did not want it to be known what he had done to help the Order. Inflamed by the spirit of the battle, holding out Merlin's wand like a burning torch, Snape rushed to the aid of Demona, who was jumping and soaring, hissing and spitting, evading Bellatrix's hexes and attempting to strangle her. The witch and the female gargoyle were snarling almost identically.

It was over pretty soon, and as Bellatrix was led, tied-handed, away from the crumbling fortress, she spat at Severus's satisfied face.

"Azkaban doesn't scare me, Snape!" She screamed, completely demented, "I have spent thirteen years there once, and I don't care about returning there again! You haven't captured my son, he escaped, my clever boy! He will finish my fight, he will avenge me!"

Severus was sorely tempted to tell her where and why Anton Black had actually gone, but he reminded himself that he promised the boy to keep his secret, and held his tongue. It didn't have any importance now, anyway. The only thing that mattered was that the battle was over, the stronghold of the Death Eaters was finished, and he was going home to Celena.


	23. Astoria Greengrass and Fiona Snape

Gringotts business brought Draco Malfoy to Diagon Alley on that early June morning. It was a fine, bright day, and after he had finished at the bank, he decided to take a stroll down the street to look at shop windows.

He stopped in his tracks when he heard familiar voices issuing from Madam Malkin's robe shop. From the doorstep, he could hear Madam Malkin, the shop owner, talk to two young women. One of them, the redhead, was Ginny Weasley – no, scratch that, she was Ginny Potter now – and the other… he felt a painful jolt somewhere in his upper abdomen when he saw the large bundle she was holding under her left arm, and knew with torturing certainty what it must contain.

"You will look lovely, simply lovely, my dear," said Madam Malkin with a simper, "I had your dress finished in record time, set two house-elves to work on it day and night."

Hermione scowled, but when she noticed Draco Malfoy, her expression changed to one of stony coldness.

"Come on, Ginny, we're leaving – don't worry about your dress being a little too loose, your Mum can fix it just fine –"

"Granger," said Malfoy, finding his voice at last, "wait."

She grudgingly stopped and looked at him, her eyebrows raised.

"I know you are getting married next month," he said, "congratulations."

"Thank you," she said stiffly, and then she took Ginny by the arm and swept out of the shop with her, leaving Draco standing there – even lonelier than before.

"Can I help you, Mr. Malfoy?" asked Madam Malkin, putting down her measuring tape and scurrying towards him.

"No," said Draco, "I'm afraid you can't."

Of course she is going to marry Weasley and there is nothing he can do about it, he thought bitterly as he walked away from Madam Malkin's. What had he expected? He had tried to make amends, certainly, but it was too little and too late, and some of it, he will never be able to tell her if he wants to preserve the honor of his family and his father's freedom. Hermione will never know about the night when he prevented his father from harming her and her parents, and it is all supposed to be for the best, he tried to convince himself.

That night, he went to a cocktail party at the Notts' with his parents. Narcissa Malfoy put on her most splendid set of dress robes and her most confident smile, and stood arm in arm with Lucius, sipping a drink and exchanging small talk with acquaintances, while Draco walked gloomily around the hall, unable to fix his attention on anything long enough to make himself forget that today was probably the last time he had seen Hermione unmarried.

"Draco!" A voice called behind him, and a smiling young woman came walking towards him. It was Daphne Greengrass, a former classmate.

"Hello, Daphne," he nodded, "didn't expect to see you here; I thought you were still in Greece."

"No, we came back last Thursday - my parents are over there, see, and here is my sister Astoria."

Upon hearing her name, Astoria Greengrass, who was chatting to another girl standing nearby, turned her head gracefully and gave Draco a fleeting nod across her shoulder. Draco nodded back; as cast-down as he was, he couldn't help but eye her with appreciation. He had known Astoria for years, of course, as they went to school together and were even in the same house, but like it often happens, he didn't notice how she had blossomed from a scared little girl waiting in a queue of first-years to a beautiful young woman. She was seventeen years old now, tall, willowy and graceful, and the dress robes of purple satin she was wearing enhanced her slender figure very flatteringly indeed. She had a head full of shiny black locks, dark eyes shadowed by long, thick lashes, and very fine, pale skin.

After hesitating for a few moments, Draco moved on to say hello to Astoria. From the corner of his eye, he noticed his mother's approving nod. He shrugged. Why not? He knew the woman he truly loved was lost to him forever, and he ached with resignation of happiness such as he will never experience, but Draco Malfoy was not the type to lock himself away in mourning for the rest of his life. What's the point? The young woman in front of him came from a respectable, well-known wizarding family, and she was very attractive. He walked towards her, confidence in every stride.

The midwitch came out of the room with a wide smile on her face, and when Severus saw her expression, he sighed with relief and mopped his pale, sweaty brow. He had been on the verge of fainting since morning, and now golden sunset already touched the treetops outside their living room window.

"Congratulations," said the midwitch, "you are the father of a beautiful, wonderful baby girl. Go on, go in and see them now."

Severus walked in. Celena was sitting in bed, propped on several large, fluffy pillows, and even though she was pale and her hair was tousled and there were dark shadows under her eyes, he had never seen her smile so radiantly. She was cradling a bundle of blankets, from which a mop of jet-black hair was sticking out. He quickly crossed the room and kissed her forehead, and she gently placed the baby in his arms.

"My little Fiona," she said tenderly.

Severus traced the baby's cheek with his finger. He had never felt anything so soft and delicate before. At his touch, she opened his eyes and he saw the deepest, most dazzling blue.

"She has your eyes," he said softly, and his face split in a rare smile.

"And your hair, look," added Celena, "and – your eyebrows, I think. But luckily, she has my nose. Not that I don't love your nose," she hastened to add, "but it looks better on a man, not a girl."

"Welcome," said Severus, looking at the peaceful little face of his daughter, his throat constricted with emotion, "little Fiona Snape."

For a few seconds, there was silence, and Severus Snape continued to stare dreamily at his daughter's face.

"Severus?" Celena broke the reverie.

"Yes?"

"Why don't you ask Harry to be godfather?" she suggested.


	24. Epilogue

At mid-July, the Burrow saw its second wedding within the span of a year. Hermione walked down the aisle to where Ron was waiting for her, grinning from ear to ear and shuffling his long arms and legs awkwardly. There was a gale of laughter when Harry, the best man, dropped Hermione's ring, which was retrieved a few moments later from under Auntie Muriel's seat.

Amidst applause and whistles, which followed the moment Hermione became Mrs. Ronald Weasley, a young man with silvery blond hair walked away from the entrance, where he stood as an uninvited guest. He was noticed by no one but Severus Snape, who looked at him with a mixture of pity and understanding. Every line in the back of Draco Malfoy's figure spelled both resignation and defiance.

The next moment, Severus's attention was diverted by the combined wails of Fiona and – as Celena and Fleur predicted – her future best friend Victoire, who was born two weeks after her.

A year later, Severus and Celena attended the wedding of Draco Malfoy and Astoria Greengrass, which was held at Malfoy Manor and marked as the classiest social event of the summer.

Two years after Fiona's birth, Severus and Celena became parents again, this time to a girl named Anna. Around the same time, Harry and Ginny Potter had their first son, James. Severus relinquished the honor of being godfather in favor of Remus Lupin, but he gladly became godfather to Albus Severus, who was born three years after James and in the same year as the third Snape child, Septimus Severus. Albus and Septimus frequently saw each other while growing up and soon became very good friends, a friendship that, their parents expected, would be further cemented when they started school.

With the shadows of the past cast away, the friendship between the Snapes, the Potters and the Weasleys continued to grow, and the years flowed peacefully, happily, until one day Severus Snape could look back and honestly say that the past seemed to him merely a bad dream, which he had been able to shake off completely.

Just one trace of the lingering offences of his school years remained: a mild, mute dislike of James Potter the second, who strongly resembled his grandfather in both looks and character, and annoyance at everyone's half-laughing suggestions that James and Anna might end up married when they grow up.

But even if that happens, Severus kept reminding himself philosophically, you can't have everything in life.


End file.
